


Language of the Heart

by mmmm1na



Category: Bill & Ted (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Pining, Regency Romance, THATS RIGHT YALL, Young Love, oh god so much pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:20:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27332581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmm1na/pseuds/mmmm1na
Summary: Theodore was only fifteen when he fell in love with his childhood friend, William.  He knew even then, his feelings as vast as an ocean, that he would love him forever.  When circumstances demand that they part for six years, will they be able to rekindle that sweet romance once they meet again?  Or will their new lives and demands keep them apart, and their love remain only a memory, lingering forever in their hearts?
Relationships: Ted "Theodore" Logan & Bill S. Preston Esq., Ted "Theodore" Logan/Bill S. Preston Esq.
Comments: 26
Kudos: 79





	1. Prolouge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes this idea took hold of me and would not let me go. Not sure how the posting is going to work after this part, but this really is a part unto itself so, here we are! Rating will change, surely. Enjoy!

When Theodore Chetsworth Logan was a boy, he had a dear friend: William Stanley Preston. They lived in the same village, and went to the same schoolhouse together, as Mrs. Logan said it would be good for Theodore to interact with boys his own age. Mr. Logan, who had married into money through Theodore's mother, was Constable of the village, and was disdainful of his son’s friendship, as Mr. Preston was a merchant and of lower status than the Logan family. The boys, however, knew nothing of status and social mores, and became fast friends- Their youth was spent chasing frogs by the stream, riding horses on the Logan estate, and reciting grand plays for their parents in the sitting room, fighting illustrious battles as their mothers clapped and their fathers smoked. Theodore thinks upon his childhood with Bill as a wondrous time in his life, rose tinted and fond in his memories.

When his mother became pregnant again, Theodore was as enraptured as a seven year old could be, sometimes sitting at her feet with his ear against her belly for hours as she read to him. He loved the kicks he would sometimes feel, and as her belly got larger and larger under her beautiful dresses, and couldn't wait to learn if he was going to have a little sister or brother. 

His mother became ill soon before she gave birth, and even though Theodore sat by her side every day reading clumsily to her, she never regained her strength. She gave birth to Theodore’s younger brother, Deacon Patrick Logan, named after his mother and her father, who went by Patricia and Deacon respectively, as Theodore sat outside her room waiting anxiously for the wail of the baby. His father had wanted him to be in the sitting room with him, as it was what men are to do when the time came for a baby to be born, but Theodore now will never forget the sound of his mother’s cries mixing with Deacon’s, both happy and sorrowful. She passed away that night, the strain of the birth too much on her weak body, holding Deacon tight to her chest as Theodore slept with his head on the mattress, sitting at her bedside.

After his mother passed, Theodore was pulled from the village schoolhouse and began to work with a tutor at home, learning Greek and Latin, sums and numbers, all under the watchful eye of Mr. Rufus. He had been a friend of his mother's from their youth, and was kind to Ted where his father had begun to harden in the wake of his wife's death. He was the one who persuaded Mr. Logan to allow William to join Theodore in his studies, and the two of them made the journey from youth into young adulthood together, curled in the library over books of Greek battles, reading of Achilles and Patroclus together.

Gone were the youthful summers of catching frogs and picking wildflowers, the frigid winters of skating on the pond and snowball fights. There were no more nights performing plays in the den for their parents- Constable Logan was no longer able to stomach the niceties required to make idle chatter with William’s parents, finding their exuberance and lavishness with their new money distasteful. The old Logan manor slowly fell into disrepair as more and more rooms were shut off due to disuse, though Theodore and William would still spend many an hour sneaking about through the servants halls, hiding from Theodore’s father under the great white sheets that covered the furniture. It made Theodore a little sad, he whispered to William one day, the sky gloomy and the rain keeping them indoors- the sheets were like ghosts, and ghosts always made him think of his mother. William just hugged him, holding him close as he cried, and neither of them spoke of it again. William always held his hand, after that, while they snuck around, footsteps softened by the layer of dust.

They both had a wonderful talent for music, though Theodore’s studies in it halted after his mother's death. She used to always play the pianoforte for him and William, fingers gentle as they moved over the keys, and Theodore remembers catching his father in the doorway more than once, watching her play with a tender gaze. After her death, the pianoforte was covered, and then eventually sold, no more music in the Logan household. 

William, on the other hand, was allowed a tutor as he reached his eleventh year, and though he didn't have the natural talent that Theodore had, the years and practice were kind to him, and he learned steadily as they grew older. Ted ached to go to his house, warm and small and full of love, to listen to him practice, fumbling through a new piece and groaning unbecomingly about it. There were no large rooms with ghosts in that home, and when he would pat Bill's lower back as he sat next to him on the bench, reminding his friend to straighten his posture, his hand would linger.

William's mother passed the winter of their thirteenth year, having always been small and sickly like her son. All Ted remembers from that time is the soft way William would cry in his arms as they hid away in whatever space they could find. They made almost no progress on their studies for months, William unable to concentrate, and it got so horrible that Theodore's father threatened to separate them and not allow William to join Theodore any longer. Mr. Rufus was able to intervene, talking quietly with Theodore's father in his den, and when Theodore pressed his ear to the door, he heard words like _development_ and _mourning_ and _mothers_ , and Ted didn't listen any longer, running off in his stocking feet. William continued to join him for his studies, Mr. Rufus eventually wrangled them back to their normal pace, and they never spoke of it.

Theodore shot up like a weed in their fifteenth year, awkward and gangly, and needed alterations to his clothing every couple of months. His joints ached, but he didn’t take the laudanum prescribed by the village doctor when he came to visit, even though William said it would help, having seen both his mother and father take it for various ailments. Theodore took it once at his urging, in the beginning, and it made him feel sick and fuzzy, unable to concentrate on anything. That night he slept in fits and starts, having nightmares about spectres with no faces, bright lights and cracks of thunder that woke him suddenly, thinking someone was standing by his bedside. He woke in the early morning with an uneasy feeling he couldn't escape, and after that bit his tongue when the pains came on.

He and William spent hours out of doors that summer, reading in the grass, and Theodore turned brown as a nut in the sun. William was still small and pale, quick to burn, so he sat in the shade as Theodore lay in the grass, the dappled pattern of the sun through the leaves shining on his eyelids, leaving him dazzled when he finally opened his eyes. William looked cherubic where he was leant against the large oak, hair a frizzy mess of blonde curls, cheeks pink in the summer heat, shirt open at the collar- Theodore could see the place where the sweat pooled at the base of his throat. He thought of Achilles and Patroclus again, as he had been wont to more and more recently, recalling the hours pouring over their Greek as they translated, and thought that he wouldn't mind following William anywhere, even into something as foreign as the concept of battle. William grinned at him and Theodore crawled over to tuck a flower behind his friend’s ear, just to see him blush.

It felt right, so Theodore leant in and pressed a soft kiss to William’s lips, the perfect pink bow of them that he had spent hours upon hours looking at. William gasped so sweetly before pushing forward, and he smelt of sunshine and sweat and the sweets they stole from the kitchen. They spend that summer kissing whenever they could, their sneaking games turning into something even more exhilarating, the excitement of the hiding combining with the thrill of the idea of getting caught. 

The Preston family had money by way of Mr. Preston's booming trade, so William’s future was set- he would never have trouble finding someone to marry. All Theodore had was a crumbling estate and no prospects, no family business to inherit and no sense for numbers. Even if William had wanted to marry him (a fluttery feeling of happiness had filled Theodore at just the thought), Constable Logan would have never permitted it, his pride running too deep, blinding him to the good match that William would make for his son just because his family was new money.

That summer, Theodore often thought, _I love him,_ when he looked at William, and knew what he was feeling would be scoffed at as just young love, that type of love that adults titter behind their hands about. He knew it was more than that; that what he felt for William was deep and unabiding, like the sea during a storm, tumultuous and uncontrolled and consuming. Even at the tender age of fifteen, so close to his coming of age, Theodore Chetsworth Logan knew he would love William Stanley Preston for the rest of his life. 

Ted talked to Mr. Rufus about it, just once, almost unable to get the words out, and when he was done speaking, the look on his teacher’s face said it all. Theodore never brought it up again, holding his hope close to his chest, and just grinned and laughed like it was all a joke. He ran off, claiming that he wanted to spend some time reading alone, but knew that Mr. Rufus saw the split second of agony cross his face at the knowledge that his father would never allow him to marry the love of his life.

Summer turned into fall, bringing cold rains and the fields covered in fog, and Constable Logan was promoted to Chief, before being transferred to a suburb outside of London.

Theodore wanted to ask to stay in the village, wanted to pitch a fit, to throw himself at his father's feet and sob, but he was almost in his sixteenth year, learning the law now, to take after his father. He had already heard the murmurings of how he's too gentle of a soul to take on the hard job of a police officer, usually uttered by the sweet mothers of the village, or the women that his father sometimes entertains, wives of coworkers and friends. Theodore always would make himself scarce when talk turned to his future- he just wanted to be with William, that's all. Nothing more, nothing less.

Anywhere would do- sitting beside him at the pianoforte, hand at the small of William’s back, or skating on the pond behind the estate, laughing until they're pink with it, or in the fields of tall grass, hidden from everyone as Theodore kisses William until he's breathless. 

The manor house was closed up, those ghosts that Theodore had become so familiar with now throughout every room, even in the warm places he grew up in, all the love and life he remembers nothing but that- a memory. The beautiful couch his mother used to recline on, the mirror Theodore watched himself grow in, the bed he’s slept in since childhood; all of it was staying behind, to be replaced with more conservative furniture, for their family’s new, more conservative house. Theodore had pet his hand over the windowsill of his room, worn with age, many a day leaning right here, thinking of how he used to wait to see William’s blonde hair as he strolled up the lane.

And there he was, those riotous curls, William’s slender frame in his dove grey suit as he approached the house. Theodore leapt up, running ungainly towards the door, ignoring his lack of dress, only in his shirtsleeves and suspenders, having not expected guests. As if it even mattered, with William, his dearest companion, his most triumphant friend. 

They snuck away and spent the afternoon in the woods, kissing amongst the dripping leaves until William’s nose and cheeks were pink with the chill. Theodore pinned him to the bark of a tree, and eventually they just held each other as they shook, not knowing when they would next see one another. Tomorrow, Theodore would set off to London, and William would stay here. It was the first time they would be significantly apart since they had met, almost ten years past.

When the hour grew late and they began to shiver with the chill, William gave Theodore a folded slip of paper, pressing it to his hands with a kiss, and requested he not open it until he was in his new home. They finally made their way back to the house, only to find they had missed dinner- It was Mr. Rufus who let them in, still around as he would be coming along with the family to continue Theodore’s tutelage, but he just smiled at the two of them shivering on the doorstep, and ushered them to the kitchen. The cook had been used to their sort of nonsense, and she heated up some portions of food, clucking at them and their wet hair, their damp clothes. 

Theodore pressed the length of his thigh against William’s as they sat at the table, unwilling to part from him even for a moment, even as their elbows bumped and made them clumsy as they ate, and William wrapped his foot around Theodore’s ankle in return.

As night fell, they had to take the carriage back into the village, much to Mr. Logan’s dismay, and Theodore rode with William, having wanted to spend every last waking moment with his dear friend. Theodore wrapped himself around William, face pressed to his neck, and William didn't even complain at Theodore’s cold nose under his ear, only squeezing him tighter. 

When William finally had to step out of the carriage, Theodore felt as if someone was ripping his heart out of his chest, and tears came to his eyes unbidden before finally spilling over, hot and despairing after having held them back all day. William stepped back in to clutch at him, feet on the ground, and Theodore fell to his knees in the carriage, curling out to bury his face in William’s neck. Mr. Preston was to come out soon, surely having heard the carriage arrive, and the driver politely looked away, knowing that this was a sorrowful farewell between true friends, but Theodore didn’t care if they had an audience. The whole village could have been watching them, and he wouldn’t have changed anything about that moment, other than that he never wanted to ever let William go.

He gave William his handkerchief, the one his mother embroidered with his initials in baby blue thread, T.C.L. William knew how much it meant to Theodore, and his eyes became wet as he held it in his hands, hiding a secret kiss against Theodore's jaw as they embraced one last time.

That ocean of love felt truly as an ocean does, deep and unending and vast, as Theodore rode away in the carriage. He will never love again, he thought, he will never love anyone as much as he loves William, his dear friend.

They promised to write, which Theodore went to do, sitting at his new desk in his new home the next evening, exhausted and sore from the long carriage ride. He smoothed his jacket down as he sat, and found that little slip of paper, tucked away for this very moment. He was so very delicate when he pulled it out, petting over the edges that William’s fingers folded carefully, and when he unfolded it, a sob came unbidden to his throat, tears burning his eyes.

Resting inside the fold of paper, perfect and sweet and heartbreaking, was a lock of William's beautiful blonde hair.


	2. PART I

> _Music, when soft voices die,  
>  _ _Vibrates in the memory—  
>  _ _Odours, when sweet violets sicken,  
>  _ _Live within the sense they quicken._
> 
> _Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,_  
>  _Are heaped for the belovèd's bed;  
>  _ _And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,_  
>  _Love itself shall slumber on._
> 
> **_-Music When Soft Voices Die (To --)_ **
> 
> _PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY_

\---

**_Six Years Later_ **

William Stanley Preston, by God, despises long carriage rides.

This is what he thinks to himself on and off throughout the long journey to London, leaving his bustling town behind him for the large city. He already feels weary at the prospect of the next month or two- he always hated the deal making and ego stroking side of the family business, but he must go forth and do it, making himself known to prospective clients and fostering friendships with men that he would hope to work with in the future.

As much as certain tasks are necessary, William still allows himself his private thoughts and the occasional lament in his personal diary, sometimes even doodling unfortunate caricatures of the person who has most recently irked him. There is a reason he tucks the small notebook away in his breast pocket, and locks the filled ones away in his trunk, tucked amongst his personal correspondences. He curses the necessity of the carriage again as it jostles him, and hopes that he can take a hot bath upon arriving in the city, at one Mr. Logan's place of residence. 

And that is the other source of Williams tumultuous feelings- Theodore Chetsworth Logan.

He and his dear childhood friend kept up their correspondence, as they had promised, up until Theodore had invited William to reside at his family residence during his stay in London. After the proper amount of refusal and insistence, done over the past two months, William finally agreed graciously and demurely, though his stomach was in knots as he gave his letter to the postmaster.

The concept of seeing his dear friend… it was most overwhelming, and had left William tossing and turning the night before his travels, making him even more irritable and tender to the rockings of his carriage the following day. He imagined how Theodore must look now, his only memories of the boy he once knew faded at the edges. They were also just that- the memories of a boy. The summer that they had fallen in love was the summer Theodore had grown several inches, and William thinks fondly of the gangly, coltish young man his best friend had become, stockings slipping out of his garters and the way he tripped over his feet as they ran through the woods, long hair flying lose from it's ribbon.

He wonders what Theodore looks like now, if he was still lithe and whip thin, or if he had grown into his large hands and feet and had filled out all over. William blushes to himself, thinking of the letters the two of them had exchanged around his eighteenth birthday, full of endless longing and thinly veiled metaphors- Theodore had come across his budding love of poetry, and had tried his own clumsy hand at it. The results weren't pretty, but the letters he had sent William had been crumpled and hastily flattened after he had been unable to keep himself from succumbing to his more base desires while reading. The letters, needless to say, had been revisited quite often that year, and into the next.

That turns his thoughts to the way, in the past two years, his letters with Theodore had become more friendly and less of star-crossed lovers, both of them shouldering their adulthood and bending to the will of propriety. Gone were the sweet poems full of longing, the way Theodore bracketed them with words of misery and contempt towards his father for continuing to keep them apart- now their letters were cordial, though the sweetness of childhood friendship still lingered on. It turned William's head, and he wasn't quite sure what awaited him once he arrived at the Logan household, or really what he hoped to find.

He had set out early, hoping to make it in by dark and suppertime, and it is a small mercy that he does so, rattling into the courtyard of the small house. He peers out the window to find three men waiting, though the misty weather doesn't allow him to see who they are until one of them steps forward to open the carriage door. 

Police Chief Logan has a face that's hard to forget, even with his newly grown moustache, and he steps forward as William disembarks from the carriage, trying to stretch out his sore limbs surreptitiously and nodding his thanks to the butler who held the door steady for him. His face is even more severe, and William can see that all of Theodore's harsh words may not have been exaggerated, though he never really had any doubts- William had never been the biggest fan of the Senior Mr. Logan.

"Mr. Preston, so wonderful to see you after all these years," Chief Logan says, nodding his head as William bends slightly in a bow, his tone making him sound as if William is some horse dung on his shoe. "How is your father? I heard he is remarrying."

"Same to you, Chief Logan, and that he is, sir," William says, wishing he could bend over more fully for a moment so that his back would pop. "Her name is Melissa, she was relatively new to the village when she and my father met, I'm not sure if you would have known her from your time there."

"No, I'm afraid not," Chief Logan responds. "Though I do still have friends there. Not much of a dowry to her name, but quite young and beautiful, is she not?"

William feels himself bristle at the implication, but only smiles charmingly and says, "That she is."

Chief Logan nods before gesturing back to the other young man standing near, and William realizes it's Deacon. He can't help but smile more genuinely, and Deacon smiles back as he takes William’s outstretched hand to shake with a nod. He's a head taller than William now, having taken to the Logan genes like a fish to water, but William has long since become used to looking up at people.

"You of course know Deacon, though he has grown quite some bit since you last saw him," Chief Logan says, patting his son on the shoulder, a surprisingly fond look crossing his face.

"That you have, Mr. Deacon," William says. "Last I saw you, you were only at my shoulder."

Deacon smiles bashfully, and says, "it has been quite some time, Mr. Preston. I was only a boy when we last met."

William nods, and after a purposeful look around, asks almost hesitantly, "May I inquire as to where… the third Mr. Logan might be?"

William realizes this may have not been a prudent question at the look of ire that crosses Chief Logan's face. Even Deacon looks down, and William sees his jaw clench as his father sighs. Chief Logan opens his mouth to speak, probably to lay some thinly veiled negativity about his son at William's feet, when there is the clattering of hooves, and suddenly, there he is.

Theodore had most _certainly_ grown into his body.

He's quick like a flash when he rides into the yard, but once he slows to a halt, William can truly take a moment to look at his dear friend- and what a moment it is. Theodore's hair is shorter than in his youth, but still curls around his cheekbones and the nape of his neck, windswept even moreso from his ride. He smiles brightly at William before dulling it to something more demure, but that smile was the same, sweet thing that he remembers from their youth, only highlighted by the way the apples of his cheeks are pink from the cool air. His collar is open an almost scandalous amount, his neckerchief caught in his hand where he holds the reins, almost as if as if he had yanked it from his neck in a fit, and the line of his throat is so tantalizing William has to look away. His clothes are nothing to speak of, well made as they are, but William's eyes linger a second too long on the wide breadth of Theodore's thighs where he is straddling the horse, and watches the way they flex as Theodore swings his leg over and off to land gracefully on the ground.

"Mr. Preston!" Theodore cries joyfully, passing the reins off to the servant who had helped William out of the carriage, and comes forward to clutch William's hand between his own. "So good to finally see you once again."

"Likewise, Mr. Logan," William says, unable to control his grin. He squeezes Theodore's hand and feels almost lightheaded from the touch, even through their gloves. "It has been too long."

The four of them move into the house and into the small dining room to take supper, and even though William is ravenous and the food delicious, albeit simple fare, he hardly remembers anything but looking at Theodore. They keep catching each others eye, as if his friend can’t keep his eyes off of William either, and they share secret little smiles. William feels that twisting feeling in his tummy, a mix of nervousness and anticipation, longing for a moment alone with Theodore so they can speak candidly.

“So, Mr. Preston, what is this business that brings you to London?” Chief Logan asks, when they retire to the drawing room for an after dinner smoke. William doesn’t much like the taste of tobacco, but has learned to stomach it for moments such as these, along with meetings with business partners. “My son hasn’t cared to inform me as to the details.”

William looks to Theodore curiously, and finds him looking at his lap, fingers playing carefully with the fabric of his trousers, face blank. William looks back at the Chief, and responds, “I’m here to speak to a handful of current and hopefully soon-to-be business partners, sir. Since I will be inheriting the business one day, we both found it prudent for me to begin to establish personal relationships with these men, especially the ones who have worked with my father for many years.”

“Hmm, it is prudent,” Chief Logan says, puffing at his pipe. “So you’re to be the master of your own business one day. I never expected Mr. Preston to be able to keep the trade running, but it seems as if life is full of surprises.”

“ _Father_ ,” Theodore says harshly, hand clenching into a fist on the couch, hidden behind his thigh where Chief Logan can’t see. William longs to reach out to touch the back of his hand, to reassure Theodore that the words don’t bother him.

“What, Theodore, do you have something to interject?” Chief Logan inquires, raising an eyebrow. William hasn’t smoked any of his own pipe that was offered, and yet the sickening smell of the senior Mr. Logan’s tobacco combined with the cruel teasing lilt of his voice is already turning his stomach. “I’m not sure how you could, as you’re still without prospects, even with that degree in law you somehow procured.”

Theodore’s jaw clenches and he says nothing, and William waits a moment before saying, “It is a surprise, the way the business is going. I’m not sure that any of us could have predicted that the key to prosperity is through an open heart and a welcoming hand, sir, though we are enjoying the fruits of it.”

Chief Logan’s face twists, though he can’t say anything in response without being most unseemingly rude, so he just nods in acknowledgement and says, “Quite.”

Theodore shifts next to William, and when he looks at his friend while the Chief turns to relight his pipe, Theodore’s lips are pressed together, as if he is struggling to keep himself from laughing. He looks at William for a moment before glancing away again, squeezing his eyes shut as he shakes, and William can’t help the smile that flits across his face before he stifles it. When he glances away, Deacon is looking at them fondly and a little exasperated, but indulgent in a way that makes him seem as he is the eldest brother, and Theodore younger.

They’re only made to suffer another quarter of an hour making small talk before William is unable to stifle his yawns any longer, and Theodore requests that they allow him to retire, sure that he is exhausted from his travels. The house is dark and a little chilly as Theodore leads him upstairs, and William shivers through another yawn as they enter a small guest room. It’s sparsely furnished, but there’s a fire warming the grate, and the bed looks cozy and inviting.

The unsure feeling returns in full force when William hears the door click shut, surprising in the silence of the house, and he wonders if Chief Logan will make a fuss over the two of them alone together. Their childhood friendship should protect them from any unkind gossip, as well as Mr. Logan’s pride, but William wonders if Theodore will be berated later if they are to be caught.

“Do not worry, my friend,” Theodore says softly, “My father’s bedroom is in the back of the house, and he never passes this way when he retires.”

“Oh,” William says dumbly, and turns from the fire to look at his friend. 

Theodore is standing awkwardly just inside the door, looking up through his eyelashes at William, and shifts on his feet before saying, softly, “You have changed quite a lot.”

“So have you, Theodore,” William says, feeling his cheeks heat at the ease in which he switches to his friend’s first name, and then at the way a wide grin spreads Theodore’s face as he moves to sit in one of the chairs by the fire. William sits across from him, watching the way the firelight highlights Theodore’s cheekbones.

“Oh, so I am Theodore, now? Gone is my childhood nickname?” Theodore says teasingly, relaxing into the chair, resting his cheek on his knuckles.

“Ted,” William says softly, lacing his fingers across his stomach as he relaxes as well, and holds Theodore’s gaze.

“Bill,” Theodore replies. “I have missed you.”

“And I, you, my friend,” William responds, cheeks feeling hot. He wants so badly to speak on the years of letters they exchanged, full of words of love, but cannot. Their meeting is too new, too fresh, and he doesn’t know what sort of unsteady footing on which they stand, buffeted in the wake of the last year of uncertainty. “So what is this law degree your father spoke of? You never mentioned that in your letters.”

Theodore watches him for a moment, eyes so big and dark in the low light, before looking into the fire. “It’s very new, I got it only two months ago. I didn’t want to mention it and derail our plans for you to come to stay. I… I was so excited to see you again, it would slip my mind every time I wrote.”

“But it is quite exciting in its own right, Ted. I’m surprised,” William says, and Theodore sighs, a surprising and unbecoming thing to do in pleasant company. It makes William smile, to see that Theodore’s rebellious nature hadn’t been entirely squashed out, and it’s not as if he is pleasant company, anyhow.

“It’s exciting, I suppose, but,” Theodore pauses. “I do not wish to have it. In having it, I now must go to work, and practice the law. I wish… I wish that I could have taken another path, my friend.”

“There is still time, surely,” William says, though they both know that window is closing, unless Theodore is to marry someone with better prospects, to support him throughout his change. William feels as if he is unbalanced, unsure as to what he is allowed to say, the honesty of their letters becoming stilted now that they are together in person. “You must not do something that makes you so unhappy.”

“As long as I am under my father’s roof, I must,” Theodore shifts, and crosses his feet closer to the fire. The way he’s looking into the flames makes William finally see how tired his friend looks, dark circles under his eyes, a downward tilt to his mouth, before he looks up at William and his face is changed as he smiles again. “But, anyways, I am so pleased you are here, my friend. I have plans for us, on the morrow, if you are free?”

“Oh?” William questions, stomach squirming at the prospect of spending even more time alone with Theodore.

“Yes, some of my friends from college have invited us over for tea. They all want to meet my dear friend that I’ve spoken so much about,” Theodore says with a cheeky grin, and William smiles back, wondering what Theodore has told them. His heart falls a little at the prospect of not having time alone together, but then chides himself. _It will come_ , he thinks, _you will be here for quite some time. If it is to come, it will._

He yawns suddenly, and he excuses himself even as Theodore stands. “Goodness, the trip seems to have taken much more out of me than I thought.”

“That, and the wine served at supper, I’m sure,” Theodore jokes, and when William rises from his chair, Theodore steps closer. William feels his cheeks, already flushed from exhaustion and the fire, burn even brighter as he looks up into his friend’s eyes.

“I’m sure,” William parrots, all his charms leaving him at the proximity, and he jumps at the brush of Theodore’s fingers across his hand.

“I have missed you so, Bill,” Theodore says softly, repeating his earlier sentiment, as if he cannot help himself, as he takes William’s hand in his own. 

“And I, you, Ted,” William whispers. The touch of Theodore’s skin makes William shiver, and he squeezes his fingers, but his own uncertainty as to where they stand makes him do nothing more. The way they are positioned casts Theodore’s face into deep shadow, his back is turned to the fire, so William cannot read him at all as he looks up into his friend’s face, dazzled by the light of the flames.

Theodore sways towards him before stepping back and letting go of his hand, and the loss of his touch is a shock, like the breaking of a spell. William shivers again as Theodore retreats to the door, where he pauses a moment with his hand on the latch.

“I will see you upon the morrow, my friend,” Theodore says, and William can’t even respond, just nods as Ted looks at him once more before opening the door, and disappears into the dark of the hallway. The latch is loud as it clicks in the quiet of the house, and the sound of rain begins, pattering gently on the roof and windows.

William lets out a harsh breath and sits upon his bed. His hand still seems to tingle with the feeling of Theodore’s skin, the intimate touch bringing back memories of kissing that same boy, six years past- but he is no longer a boy, neither of them are. William flops back onto the mattress and stares up at the firelight on the ceiling, and thinks, helplessly, _what is next to come?_

\---

The next day, William takes breakfast with the Logan's, the four of them eating in the silence of the morning. William always preferred to have a bit of a lie in, but he knew from his childhood that the Logan's were early risers, and had woken, with some difficulty, at the sounds of the house waking up. He feels groggy still from his long day yesterday, and struggles to not yawn into his porridge, rubbing at his eyes when Chief Logan isn’t looking.

Theodore looks tired but also used to this routine, and he just nudges his foot gently against William’s under the table when he catches him yawning, and they share a secret grin between the two of them. William was so exhausted that he couldn’t lie awake thinking all hours, but the time he did spend awake, he thought of his friend, and the way he had reached out to take William’s hand. 

“Well, boys, I’m off,” Chief Logan says, rising from the table. “Theodore, you have your lunch today, with Mr. Pennyweather. Do not forget.”

Theodore nods, not raising his eyes from his food, and the Chief purses his lips under his moustache before sweeping out of the room. William turns to look at Theodore with a raised eyebrow.

“My father set up this lunch with one of his colleagues, a lawyer,” Theodore explains, glancing at Deacon. “Though I’d much rather spend the day with you, William.”

“That’s alright,” William responds. “We have supper with your friends later. I need to get my things in order, anyways, as I have meetings starting tomorrow.”

Theodore nods, looking disgruntled, and William knocks his foot into his friend’s until he catches his eye to smile at him. Theodore sighs and smiles back, nudging his foot against William’s, and Deacon rises from the table. 

“I’ll be in the library,” he says, “Mr. Preston, feel free to join me, if you need a desk to do your work at.”

William thanks him, and then it’s just the two of them at the table, and the maid coming in to clear away the dishes. The two of them sit in silence until they’re alone, and William puts his hand out to Theodore, who hesitates before gently brushing his fingers over William’s palm. The touch is just as electrifying as it was last night, intimate enough that it makes William blush, even though he was the one who prompted it.

“Do not be so discontented, Ted,” William says softly, and Ted looks him in the eye. “Your lunch will go well, and then we will have a lovely supper with your friends, whom I will win over with my many charms.”

Theodore laughs, and squeezes William’s hand before pulling away. “Alright, Bill. Such confidence.”

“I am always confident in my charms, my friend,” William chuckles, and smiles when he sees Theodore go red in the cheeks as he looks away.

They part ways after breakfast, and William goes back up to his room to start to unpack his trunk. He’s brought a reasonable amount of clothing, most of his suits more than respectable for daywear and meetings, but he does have one fine suit packed at the bottom, made of a beautiful royal purple silk, to be paired with his embroidered powder blue waistcoat. He hardly ever gets to wear it, which deems it a bit frivolous, but he’s always loved color, and so he allowed himself it, thinking of balls he may one day go to.

He gets his papers in order, and goes back downstairs to take Deacon up on his offer to join him in the library. He knocks softly, and when he is bade to enter, he is greeted by Deacon, and, surprisingly, his old tutor.

“Mr. Rufus!” William cries, and he rushes forward before catching himself. Mr. Rufus just smiles at him and reaches out his hands, and William finds himself tumbling into his arms to embrace him.

“It’s wonderful to see you, William,” Mr. Rufus says, patting William on the back before pulling away. “When I was told you were to be visiting, I was very glad.”

“I’m so happy to see you, Mr. Rufus,” William says, a little choked up. His tutor was almost like a father to him and Theodore, and he’ll always remember the kind words he shared with him, after his mother passed.

Mr. Rufus had pulled him aside one day, after Theodore had run off, and spoken to him of life and death and love, talking about losing his own mother, lending a shoulder for William to cry on. It had been enough, to have someone who was older to comfort him in that way, since his own father had pulled back in his misery. Theodore had also been there for him, of course, but comfort from a friend is different than comfort from a mentor, and William would never forget it.

When they pull away, Mr. Rufus and Deacon pretend not to notice as William wipes his eyes, and he clears his throat before saying, “I have some papers to look over, would you mind if I joined you?”

They spend a comfortable day together in the library, William chiming in at times to comment on what Deacon is learning today, and they all take lunch together in the library. He was glad to have time with his old mentor again, and outside of the watchful eye of his father Deacon was quite a witty young man, humor dry and quick, and he makes William laugh more than once with his comments.

“So, William, how goes it up north?” Mr. Rufus says over their light fare.

“Quite well, though the countryside is getting busier and busier,” William responds. “Good for business, bad for my walks. Sometimes it takes me weeks before I finally have a day I do not meet a soul on my journeys.”

Mr. Rufus and Deacon laugh, and Mr. Rufus says, “You should ask Theodore about going out for a ride while you are visiting- he’s become quite the adventurer. I’m sure he knows a place or two here you can still get away to nature, even with the city all around us.”

William tries his hardest not to blush at the implication, knowing that Mr. Rufus has the best intentions, but he can’t help but think of a day away with Theodore, a packed lunch, riding their horses somewhere that brings them back to their childhood, if only for an afternoon. Mr. Rufus smiles at him, and William knows suddenly, where before there was only a suspicion, that he was aware of the nature of his and Theodore’s relationship. The feeling behind his suggestion, however, points towards his acceptance of it, and William feels a breath of relief rush through him to know that his beloved tutor is on his side.

Deacon seems unaware, or pretends to be, and continues, “Yes, he truly has become a bit wild. Father is always bothering him about spending more time indoors with the books, or going out to find a husband or wife. He’s become known as a bit of a flirt, which will only do him harm in the long run.”

“Oh?” William says, as unaffected as he possibly can make it, though his stomach clenches at the idea of Theodore flirting with someone else, let alone _marrying._

"He doesn't seem interested in anyone," Deacon explains. "Or, he's interested in _everyone_. As unbecoming as it is to spread gossip about my own brother, I've heard that he's been seen going off with a number of young ladies and men. There is always a time at every ball where I can no longer find him the rest of the evening, which to me points towards the only logical conclusion."

"Mr. Deacon," Mr. Rufus chides softly. "You are correct, it _is_ unbecoming to spread such gossip about your own brother. Those rumors are just that- baseless rumors. Don't fill William's head with them, especially so soon after he's reunited with his dear friend."

Deacon apologizes, going a little red in the cheeks at being chastised, but the thought has been planted in William's head. He finds that he has trouble concentrating on his work for the rest of the afternoon, intrusive thoughts of Theodore treating some mystery gentleman or gentlelady in the same way as he did William, all those years ago. He's all worked up into knots by the time Theodore bursts through the door, red in the cheeks and windswept, and he finds he can hardly muster up a smile for his friend, let alone return his sweet grin.

"Mr. Rufus, I hope you haven't been boring my dear friend with tall tales while I've been out," Theodore cries playfully, coming to stand by William's chair, though his jovial tone is cut with an undercurrent of real concern.

"Nothing to worry about, Mr. Theodore," Mr. Rufus says in his calm tone. "The only things of note were comments on how you haven't outgrown stealing sweets from the kitchen."

William takes a deep breath and laughs along as Theodore sputters through a high-spirited rebuttal, but Mr. Rufus' scolding comment on the gossip that was spoken of at lunch doesn't leave William's mind. He finds he's comforted by Mr. Rufus going out of his way to reassure him again, surely having noticed his restlessness, and William decides to put Deacon's words out of his mind. Easier said than done- but there was no point in worrying over Theodore's theorized rakishness, even though it gnawed at William's mind most odiously.

Finally, Theodore touches his fingers to William's shoulder lightly, and asks, "Ready to go to supper?"

The carriage ride over is pleasant, and Theodore points out places of note and places of no note at all. William enjoys the way Theodore is chattering on, finding it charming that he seems nervous about William meeting his friends, and he humors him gladly.

The home they arrive at is lavish in a subdued way, and it makes sense that some of Ted's companions are old money, especially the way his father is about that sort of thing. The townhome is massive, at least twice as large as the Logan household, and has its own courtyard and gardens that they ride the carriage through. The land it takes up makes everyone who passes by know that people of importance live here, and it's certainly making William nervous as the carriage rattles up the drive.

A butler comes to open the door, and Theodore climbs out first, calling out a cheerful hello to someone William can't see yet. William thanks the butler as he climbs down, resting his tophat on his head as he comes to settle his feet on the ground, and finally sees whom Theodore had been greeting.

There are three young socialites waiting on the steps, two men and one woman, and Theodore is bowing to the latter as she curtseys with a smile. She and the man to her left look similar enough that William's suspects they're related somehow, both incredibly handsome with heart-shaped faces and curly blonde hair. The third seems to just be a friend, and his dark wavy hair falls artfully around his face as he smiles at Theodore in familiarity. All three of them seem very pleased to see Theodore, actually, and William is truly glad that he has friends.

He walks up, smoothing down his suit front out of nervous habit, and Theodore turns an almost blinding smile on him, holding his arm out to gesture him forward.

"And this is William S. Preston," Theodore says happily as William settles beside him. "William, these are our hosts, Walter and Johanna Stratford, and our friend, Raphael Lively."

"It's a pleasure," William says, bowing to the three of them. 

"It certainly is! I must say, I'm so pleased to finally meet the famous Mr. Preston," Mr. Stratford says with a grin, and William isn't sure, but he doesn't think he likes the man's tone. He smiles back tightly.

"Come, come, let us relax in the sitting room before supper," Miss Stratford says, and they all turn to go inside. Mr. Lively puts a familiar hand on Theodore's shoulder as he begins to talk, and William decides that if he can keep his jealousy hidden, he should be allowed to keep it.

The conversation before dinner is polite, Theodore's friends asking William about his family's business, the countryside, his and Theodore's childhood. It's all very pleasant, albeit a bit boring, but William is used to this sort of chatter, and he has had much experience at it from his required business meetings. It's all very socially acceptable, and William thinks that there has to be more to this, if Theodore keeps these people as his close companions. It's strange to see his dear friend obeying the rules and conventions of society, and William is almost comforted when Theodore's foot begins to tap as they get close to dinner, restless. 

When a servant comes to retrieve them, they make their way into a very well furnished dining room, the spread of food on the table looking and smelling delicious. William isn't used to this sort of frivolity, personally preferring to be less gaudy with his funds, but he supposes it's all a part of the act. He refuses to be intimidated by it, and looks at Theodore across the table, catching his eye. They smile secretly at each other and William just barely rolls his eyes, to which Theodore sticks his tongue out just a tiny bit- the ease with which they fall back into their silent communications of their youth is a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. When William looks away, he happens to catch the eye of Mr. Lively next to Theodore, who is watching with an almost amused expression, as if he's never seen Theodore act in such a manner.

"So, Mr. Preston, how long will you be staying in town?" Miss Stratford says from where she's sitting to William's right. 

"A month, give or take," William responds, and his mouth waters when a maid serves him some of the delicious looking fare, starving after his light lunch. He thanks her quietly.

"Oh, then you must come to the ball we are hosting next week end. It will be such fun," Miss Stratford says, taking a sip of her wine.

"I wouldn't want to impose," William says, and Miss Stratford shakes her head. Before she can speak, Mr. Lively chimes up from across the table. 

"Any friend of Theodore's is a friend of ours, Mr. Preston," he says, and William nods in acquiescence. The use of Theodore's first name doesn't slip past him.

"Do you dance, Mr. Preston?" Mr. Stratford asks, beginning to eat. William looks, forlorn, down at his food, unable to partake while everyone is still focused on him.

"I do, though I must say I'm sure I haven't had as much practice as the rest of us in the room," William says, and quickly takes a bite before he can be asked anything else. Surprisingly, Theodore laughs at his comment, catching the sly jape that William had only partially intended.

"You must think us so frivolous, Mr. Preston," Mr. Lively says, and William just smiles closed-lipped at him.

"Not at all- there's nothing wrong with dancing. My lack of experience has nothing to do with my aversion to the pastime- it moreso points towards my own two left feet," William responds. On the contrary, he's actually quite a good dancer, loving the balls hosted back home where the whole countryside would come together for a grand time. He's more and more sure as the evening progresses, however, that they would be looked down upon by this crowd, so he keeps that to himself. 

"Maybe you just need a better partner, Mr. Preston," Miss Stratford says.

"Well, then I hope you will allow me a dance," William says, being polite. To his surprise, Miss Stratford's cheeks go a little pink, and as lovely as she is, William can't help but think of Theodore, sitting silent across from him. When William looks to him, he doesn't catch his friends eye this time around, and William feels lost for a moment.

As the evening progresses, Theodore's friends become a little less composed, the wine and good food lifting all spirits, even William's. He's not a heavy drinker, so he tries to imbibe in moderation, but even he feels lightheaded and flushed when they retire to the sitting room. He's also full to bursting, the dinner having been rich in a way he was unused to. Their hosts both end up reclining against the couches in a show of familiarity that William doesn't feel as if should be afforded to him, but he supposes they have all known each other for quite some time. It only surprises him slightly when Theodore removes his jacket, left in just his shirtsleeves and waistcoat.

"Theodore's told us that you used to play," Mr. Stratford says, gesturing to the pianoforte on the other side of the room. "Do you still? My sister is dreadful."

"Hold your tongue!" Miss Stratford cries. Mr. Lively and Theodore laugh, so William assumes this is some sort of friendly joke between them.

"I do still play," William says. "Though I'm sure my skill is no better than Miss Stratford's."

"Oh, please play for us, William," Theodore says, breathless and pink in the light of the fire, and William can't help but blush at his tone. "All these years of hearing about it in your letters, I would love to listen to you play."

"Theodore, your father won't allow a piano in your home, isn't that right?" Mr. Lively comments, also removing his jacket. His waistcoat has fine metal threads that glint in the firelight; William thinks that it makes him look quite like an ostentatious peacock.

"No," Theodore says shortly, which sends a thrill through William as he rises, still a little flustered, to go sit at the pianoforte.

The conversation turns to something else as William settles on the bench, and as he begins the first movement of one of his favorite pieces, fingers dancing across the keys, he sees Theodore rise and come to stand next to the instrument, resting his hand on the lid. William looks at him for a moment, but the utterly saccharine look of affection in his friend's eyes is too much, and he fumbles the next note before having to look down again. He doesn't look back up, but he knows Theodore is there the whole piece. 

The adagio is particularly moving to William in this piece, and the room goes silent as he plays it; this is the piece he spent hours upon hours practicing when he was in his eighteenth year, the longing he felt for Theodore palpable, and it feels strange to play it for his friend now, not knowing where they stand. He didn't even mean to play it- the music just came to his fingertips when he sat down, prompted by Theodore's proximity, perchance. He imagined this scene many a time, and this is not at all how he thought of it going. His daydreams often included more elements that were not allowed in polite company; Theodore sitting next to him on the bench, hand on William's lower back as he used to do, then Theodore kissing his neck as he played, distracting him until William could play no longer, finally ravishing him upon the instrument itself, in a fit of love and lust that William blushes to think about.

When he finishes the piece with a flourish, he finally looks up at his friend, and feels captured by his dark eyes, thrown into shadow by the fire yet again. Theodore looks especially handsome tonight, William still unused to the man that his friend has grown into, in his waistcoat that highlights his broad shoulders and trim waist. His hair hangs around his face, curling across his cheek, and William longs to tuck it away, just to have his hands on him.

"Oh, bravo!" Miss Stratford cries, and the spell is broken. William yanks his gaze from Ted's, feeling hot under the collar, and smiles at his hosts.

"I hope I didn't embarrass myself too fully," William says, walking back over to the couch, and feels Theodore follow behind him, taking a seat on the other end. 

"Oh no, that was quite wonderful. I don't think I've heard playing such as that since we had that composer come to play, what was his name?" Mr. Stratford compliments, snapping his fingers as he ponders.

"What does it matter! Oh, Mr. Preston, you must come play for me again, sometime," Miss Stratford says. "Especially since Theodore doesn't have a pianoforte at home. You mustn't go without practice."

"I would be a fool to turn down playing on such a beautiful instrument," William replies, and Miss Stratford smiles at him.

"Theodore, aren't you going to compliment your dear friend?" Mr. Lively asks.

"Oh! Well I… William, that was lovely," Theodore says softly. "It was everything I had dreamed of."

William feels himself blush all the way to the tips of his ears at Theodore's words, having wanted to hear them for many years. He wishes they were alone, wishes that Mr. Lively had kept his mouth shut and allowed Theodore to compliment him in his own time. He used to despise when people didn’t give Theodore time to talk, when they were children, always pushing him or suggesting things as opposed to just listening.

“The ball won’t be a perfect place for the caliber of your playing, Mr. Preston, but you must take a turn that evening,” Miss Stratford chimes in, and she holds her hand to her forehead in mock wooziness. “You would truly be the talk of the town. It will be _such_ a lovely night.”

"Oh, and you'll be able to meet our cousin, Elizabeth Vincent," Mr. Stratford says. "She will have returned from her journey abroad with her family."

"Ah, yes, the lovely Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Lively says, and William is starting to think that this man is just overly familiar with everyone, and seems to get away with it because of his good looks. "Theodore was quite sweet on her last summer, were you not?"

"Oh, I-" Theodore says, eyes darting up to meet William's gaze, mouth opening and closing unbecomingly before he snaps it shut. "She is very lovely, of course."

William feels something cut through him, at the admission, in a way he didn’t realize hearing Theodore speak of someone else in that way would. It burns, hot and uncomfortable, in the space beneath his heart, tucked between his ribs, and he finds he can't look his friend in the eye. He focuses on the fireplace, thinking of how their letters had become more friendly in the past two years, and wonders if this is the cause.

“More than lovely,” Mr. Lively crows, unaware or uncaring of William’s present feelings, drunk already. “You were practically engaged! William, it was the talk of the town, the way they went together. We were all shocked when the announcement didn’t come before her departure.”

“No, we didn’t... We weren’t-” Theodore sputters.

“Don’t be shy, Theodore,” Miss Stratford says. “Elizabeth told me all about it! You know us women can’t keep our gossip to ourselves. She’s like a sister to me, after all.”

“It is between her and I. I do not wish to speak of it,” Theodore says suddenly, and the room goes silent, his sharp words so out of character that even William looks up at him in shock. 

“We’re just teasing, Theodore,” Miss Stratford says softly, after a moment. “We didn’t mean any harm.”

“Yes, Theodore,” Mr. Lively says, much louder than Miss Stratford. “No need to be so somber. Just some japes between friends.”

Theodore turns to look at William, but William looks away, unable to take his gaze.

\---

The rest of the evening is pleasant, albeit more subdued for William, as he cannot get the sorrowful pain in his chest to go away. He would worry that it has something to do negatively with his health if it had not been a common occurrence over the years when he would think about Theodore passing him by for another. Theodore is so close to him, on the other end of the couch, close enough that William could reach out and brush his fingertips across the fine wool of his breeches, if he liked. If he was allowed.

When they depart, climbing into the carriage as their hosts wave drunkenly from the front step, William dreads, for the first time, the alone time he is about to spend with Theodore. He wishes that he hadn’t been so silly, seeing things in Theodore’s eyes that were not there, taking the touch of his hand as anything other than a friendly gesture. 

“Your friends were pleasant,” William says, as the carriage rattles away from the grand house. He must say, he is not forlorn to see it disappearing behind them.

“They liked you very much, I could tell,” Theodore responds. He had become more animated after his outburst, drinking a bit more as the night went on. Now, however, he is subdued and quiet without his friends to encourage him. “Miss Johanna, especially, seemed quite taken with you.”

 _Ah,_ William thinks. _So this is how it shall be._

“She is quite lovely,” William says, parroting Theodore’s earlier words. There is silence between them for a minute, the streets dark as they travel home.

“Please, Bill, tell me what you really thought of them,” Theodore suddenly cries, turning towards his friend, and the nudge of his knee against William’s thigh is almost too much. 

“They were really quite nice,” William says, trying to be honest without showing all his cards. “I was glad to be able to play the pianoforte for them. I’m just not very accustomed to being hosted by people such as them, you know that. You know the types from back home. Nothing really compares.”

“Yes, I suppose not,” Theodore says, though he seems disgruntled by William’s answer, and he turns away. The rest of the ride home is silent, and William feels like he’s going to be sick, his stomach all knotted up at the idea that, maybe, Theodore has left him behind.

When they arrive home at the Logan residence, Theodore stumbles ahead of William, who thanks the carriage driver before following behind his friend. The house is dark and silent, everyone but the maid having retired, and Theodore stands at the foot of the stair for William to take the candle left by the door, waiting until he’s caught up before ascending.

The darkness feels palpable, like a heavy blanket on William’s body, and he can’t wait to strip from his tight suit and lay in his cool sheets. He suddenly aches to swim naked in a stream, to lay upon the sweet smelling grass and let the sun dry his skin, listening to the birds or reading a book. He imagines, for one blissful second, Theodore laying beside him, eyes closed, dark eyelashes fanned across his cheeks.

Theodore stops suddenly and turns, and William realizes they’re at his door.

“Bill, let me explain,” Theodore says, and the pain in his voice is so palpable that it makes William himself ache.

“There is nothing to explain, my most excellent friend,” William responds, voice quiet. “I understand.”

“ _Bill_ ,” Theodore says, so soft that his voice rasps on it, plaintive and full of emotion, but William can’t hear what Theodore has to say. His heart is already breaking.

“Goodnight, Ted,” William whispers, and retreats into his bedroom. 

He stands on the other side of the door, head resting against the wood, until Theodore’s soft footsteps fade away. Turning around, the small room is cozy and claustrophobic in equal measures, and he goes over to his trunk at the foot of the bed.

 _Coward,_ he thinks to himself, sitting on the cold floor. _You couldn’t even listen to your oldest friend say that he loves another. What sort of friend are you, if you desire your own happiness over his. If he is happy, it should be enough. It will be enough._

William opens the trunk and gently rifles through it until he’s able to remove the locked box he takes with him wherever he goes. In it are all his special possessions- amongst them his journals with his most secret internal thoughts, and all of his correspondences, though most of them are his letters from Theodore. At the bottom, under the yellowed paper, is a small square of fabric, which he takes out carefully. 

It's Theodores handkerchief, the one he gave to William all those years ago, thrust into his hands in a fit of emotion. William remembers the way his friend shook in his arms, on his knees in the footwell of the carriage as they clung to one another, and thinks upon the lock of hair he gave to Theodore that same day. He had been unable to stop thinking of it for months after, his hand unconsciously going up to play with the spot he cut it from, until one day he couldn't find it anymore, the hair grown out. Theodore had mentioned it only once- in his first letter upon arriving, tear spots staining the paper, wrenching William's heart in his chest as he read it. Theodore had written, at the end of all his sorrows,

> _The lock you have given me to prove your love makes me feel lighter than air, though the world weighs heavy upon me throughout. I will keep it close to me, forever, as I will keep my love for you. Do not worry, we will be reunited soon, my dearest friend, my most excellent companion, but until then, I am gladdened to have this piece of you, a reminder of your beauty, your kind nature, and your loveliness. I am forlorn, my love, and my heart feels as if it is breaking. I am lost at sea without you._

Bill reads those words again now, kneeling on the floor of the guest bedroom in the Logan household, the edges of the paper soft with how many times he had pulled this letter out to reread it over the years, and wonders how much of it is still true, if any. He feels tears come to his eyes, wishing what he always has wished- that they had never been parted all those years ago, him and his dear friend. He presses the handkerchief to his face and inhales deeply, but where there was once the quintessential essence of Ted's scent, sweat and sunshine and summer flowers, there's now only the smell of dry paper and ink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bill plays Hayden's Sonata No. 13 (Partia/Divertimento) in G!


	3. PART II

The next week is a lesson in concealment. William still feels the aching pain in his heart every morning when he wakes, laying in his bed as the grey light of morning filters in, and feels exhausted. It is as if he is an old pair of linens- worn and grey with many washes and long years of use, ready to be repurposed for something,  _ anything _ .

He still takes breakfast with the Logan’s, and supper if he does not have a business meeting, though he finds Chief Logan’s words becoming more and more unpalatable as the week progresses. His nerves feel frayed like the end of a rope, and he tries his hardest to hold on even as it becomes more and more untangled, grasping it in his raw palms.

On the bright side, the business meetings he takes go as well as they possibly can. He puts Theodore out of his mind and does his best; he smiles and jokes and greases all the correct palms, and by the end of the first week, feels as if he has a couple of men on his side, even if they may not be friends just yet. Though he hates this part of the business, he’s glad to find himself quite good at it, and is able to win over most everyone with his charms.

Theodore and him don’t have much of a moment alone after that night in the hall, both of them pulled away by duties here or there. With all of William’s daytime and evening meetings, and Theodore going off wherever he goes in the mornings, they only really get to see each other after dinner, sitting in the parlor or the library. Usually, they’re joined by the senior Mr. Logan or Deacon, and so the chance for candid conversation is slim to none. William is guilty for feeling almost grateful for their presence, even as it makes Theodore stiff and uncomfortable, and wishes he could put these feelings behind him so that he can have a pleasant visit with his longest friend.

The business that he must take care of at the end of the day, all of the paperwork and letters to write home, combined with the tossing and turning that are the result of his melancholy and aching heart, cause him to take late nights. He curses the early mornings he must have in this household, and pledges to have a most excellent lie-in once he returns north, promising himself a sweet week-long holiday of walks through nature and the most relaxing of pursuits. He doesn’t think of how he longs for Theodore to join him, he cannot.

The ball begins to loom closer, and dread fills William more and more at the possibility of seeing Theodore with the illusive Miss Vincent. He can not imagine anything more heinous than being forced to watch Theodore with another person, knowing that he has lost his love forever. 

He scolds himself, trying to remember that Theodore’s happiness is of the utmost importance, and that as his friend, William must accept anything that he decides, even if it means he will never be with him again. He tells himself this over and over, though it does not make a difference. Every night, he pours out his sorrows into his diary, allowing himself that one moment of bitter, choking mourning for his sweet childhood love, before shuttering it up again, closing it up into the quietest place in his aching heart. He does not think he has ever felt such sorrow since his mother passed, and thinks that the comparison is not so farfetched. 

The night of the ball arrives, and William dresses without the aid of a servant, well versed in putting his own suits on without help. He feels under the weather, like his head is foggy, but he just puts it down to the exhaustion of a physically and emotionally taxing week. He’s looking forward to a bit of dancing and music, but he wishes that it would have come at a better time- maybe following a week where he didn’t have to work all hours on only five hours of sleep a night. He hopes that Theodore’s friends are not too off-putting tonight, and thinks of Miss Stratford’s pleasant demeanor, hoping that she will take him up on his offer of a couple of dances. He also hopes to not see hide nor hair of a certain Mr. Lively, though he’s sure that wish won’t be granted.

The carriage ride over his tense and silent, Chief Logan severe as he sits across from Deacon. William chose to climb in and sit next to the Chief, thinking in the split second that he wished to save Theodore from having to keep himself from fidgeting as he pressed against his father, but it left William’s knees bumping against his friend’s; Theodore’s legs are so long that they have to interweave their legs slightly, and William feels every brush and knock of Theodore’s trousers against his own. He stares out the window to avoid the gaze of the man across from him, and already curses his dreadful luck.

The beautiful, large courtyard that William both mocked and marveled on their last visit is full to the brim with expensive carriages and footmen waiting around, smoking in the darkness between the horses. The house is lit up like an opera house, candles burning in every window, and the light is dazzling and almost ostentatious. Theodore leans forward slightly to peer out of the window with William, uttering a quiet  _ whoa _ .

“I never get used to seeing the splendor of their home during a ball,” Theodore says. “I, of course, have visited often but… seeing everyone in their finery, the way all the rooms are lit up? It’s quite lovely, is it not, William?”

William nods, and feels the heat of Theodore’s knee press against his own.

When they finally roll to a stop and climb out, William looks around at all of the other guests as they walk up to the front steps. He always felt as if he was in no way shabby in dress, always comfortable and reasonably stylish without being ostentatious, and he had dressed in his finest suit for this occasion. Even he is underdressed compared to some at this ball, however- large hair ornaments and dresses that are simple to the eye but glitter with fine embroidery when one moves closer, silk suits that hug every line of a man’s figure, every cut and color as fashionable as could possibly be. He walks into the house behind the Logan’s, and allows himself a moment to appreciate the cut of Theodore’s figure in his dark blue suit, the way his cream linen trousers highlight his thighs as they disappear into his hessian boots, and realizes many other people are doing the same as him. He feels a burning unhappiness in his gut and forces himself not to fidget with his cuffs as they finally funnel into the house.

They’re greeted by Mr. and Miss Stratford before they enter the main hall, the two of them nodding politely to the eldest and youngest Mr. Logan before smiling brightly at Theodore, jesting quietly under their breath. When they finally turn to him, trailing behind and waiting his turn, William is surprised to find the sincerity in Miss Stratford’s smile, and he gladly returns it as he bows in response to her curtsey.

“I do hope you’ll honor my request for a dance this evening, Miss Stratford?” He says, and is quite charmed by the pink at the apples of her cheeks.

“Of course, Mr. Preston,” She says, and he nods his head again with a smile before turning to follow Theodore, only to find that his friend had disappeared.

William pauses for a moment in the doorway in surprise before moving out of the way of the flow of people, gazing around in hopes to find a friendly face. It’s a swirl of riotous color and heat in this main room, what feels like every inch of space already packed with people, on every finely embroidered couch and standing on every step of the fine staircase. He feels eyes upon him, wondering who he is, taking in his finely tailored suit and blonde curls, whispering and tittering behind their hands. He takes a second to find a place against the wall to gather his bearings, feeling hot under the collar already, and once he's caught his breath, sets off to find a servant carrying a tray of wine. Just one glass, a little something to sooth his nerves.

He finds the ballroom via following the lovely music, nodding at guests he makes eye contact with, used to being polite and kind to all, though he doesn’t receive the same sort of treatment from most he greets. At the balls up north, he’s quite a popular name upon the lips of the locals- his yearly sum makes sure of that, but so do his good looks and charms, and he’s unused to the way that no one here seems to care or take note of him. He thinks, for a moment, how it will be sobering and reduce his ego and is glad for it, as these are the sorts that maybe he doesn’t want to be known by. A woman’s large feathery headdress brushes his face as he slips by her, and he thinks, yes, for certain, and misses his home dearly.

He cannot catch a glimpse of Theodore, let alone the other two Mr. Logans, so he settles himself against a wall in the ballroom once he procures a glass of wine, thinking of how if he was home, he already would have been pulled into a dance. He knows he could join a conversation, knows he has the skill and wit and charm, but the way he feels tired and out of sorts keeps him from it. He wishes, again, that he could go back to his guest bedroom and crawl between the cool sheets, press his hot cheek to the linen and wait for Theodore to slide in beside him.

As if summoned by a thought, Theodore is there across the ballroom, speaking with a group of friends, laughing and smiling. William feels a little disgruntled at being left behind at the entrance, but thinks of how flighty Theodore was as a child, and also that no matter how hard he tries, William can never be truly angry at his friend. He moves off the wall and begins to make his way around the ballroom towards the group, but when he is only a couple feet away, Theodore moves, and William sees a woman who could only be-

Miss Elizabeth Vincent.

She stands at Theodore’s elbow, smiling up at him as he tells a fantastic story, no doubt, gesturing with his hands to make the group laugh. Her dark curls are piled beautifully upon her head, highlighted by simple pearls, and they do make quite a handsome pair as they smile and laugh together. Their body language does point towards the two of them being close, but there are no proprietary hands or any other lingering touches; which is all well and good, William thinks, because he is already feeling quite fluttery in the tummy. Wine on a partially empty stomach is never a good idea, he thinks, even as he takes another fortifying sip.

He honestly considers turning to go, but Theodore catches sight of him out of the corner of his eye and after a brief flicker of apprehension, he schools his features to a smile and gestures William forward. 

“Ah, there you are, William!” Theodore cries, and surprisingly, brings him between himself and Miss Vincent. “My friends, this is my dear childhood companion, Mr. William S. Preston.”

William bows to the small group, already feeling how they are studying him, and wonders how well they know Theodore and what that leads them to know about himself. He almost can’t bring himself to look at Miss Vincent to his right, but eventually makes himself turn slightly as he inclines his head in a bow. 

He’s startled to find her looking at him intently, though it does make sense, if she and Theodore are close enough for her to know even the slightest glimmer of their childhood relationship. There is no malice or haughtiness in her gaze, however, and she smiles at him sweetly when their eyes meet. William, surprised, can’t help but smile back- oh, of course, no regular woman would be good enough for Thedore.

The conversation turns to other things, William now accepted as a part of their group, though he finds himself unable to converse with his usual wit and brevity as he feels more and more tired with every passing minute. Theodore must know something is the matter, as he keeps glancing at him, but William just smiles at him reassuringly, hopefully letting him know that he’s alright. The quartet ends their song, and as they clap along with the rest of the ballroom, Miss Vincent turns to William and asks, “Do you dance, Mr. Preston?”

William nods his head, and knows what he must say next. “I do, Miss Vincent. May I have the honor of a dance for the next song?”

She smiles at him and takes his arm when he extends it, and William sees the look of shock on Theodore’s face while they pass. It surprises William, though he tries not to let his emotions show as he stands across the dance floor from Miss Vincent- not with the way she is intently watching his face. William feels like he is a mouse being eyed by a hawk, though it is not only her that is the hawk... it is the whole room, everyone in it waiting for him to miss-step. He almost wants to give them something to titter behind their hands about, but he must not, and the music begins.

The dance is a quick one, so there isn’t much time for talk, but during a slow section Miss Vincent says softly, “It is such a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Preston. Theodore has spoken much about you.”

The sound of his friend’s first name on her lips almost makes William stumble, a sharp pain of sadness striking through his heart. “Oh? Only good things, I hope?”

“Of course,” Miss Vincent says with a smile, as they pass again across the floor. “I do not think he cares for anyone in the world as much as you.”

“I could never presume such a thing,” William says, modestly, and her laugh is bright. William sees Theodore watching them out of the corner of his eye, completely ignoring his other friends.

“It is true, Mr. Preston. You come up in conversation quite a lot.”

“He is a very easy man to win over,” William says, feeling an aching bitterness at her words, not allowing himself to feel the rush of happiness from knowing that Theodore thinks of him often. It means nothing- it is only friendship. “Do not worry, it will pass soon enough, and then he will speak of another.”

Miss Vincent looks taken aback by his statement, and says nothing more for the rest of the dance. When they bow and curtsey to one another, clapping for the band, she looks at him in a way that makes him feel as if he is a mouse again, but he feels as if he has done something to personally offend the hawk, this time. There it is, he thinks- this is the malice he expected from the woman pursuing his former love. 

“May I request the next dance, William?”

Theodore is pink cheeked and sweet as he stands beside him, and William can see the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. He doesn’t know of any reason why Theodore should be nervous, however, and puts it down to his friend needing something to drink. He vows to get them both a glass of wine, but in the meantime, “Yes, of course, Theodore.”

Of course, the next dance is slower, and God, does Theodore look handsome as he stands across from William, his smooth face framed by his loose dark hair, the white of his neckerchief making his tan skin shine in the candlelight, his midnight blue jacket and white trousers highlighting his figure. William wants to cross the dancefloor right now and pull him into his arms, but he just takes a deep breath, and the music begins.

They don’t speak- William doesn’t think that he could, with the way his tongue is sticking to the roof of his mouth. Theodore hardly seems to blink, dark eyes watching William’s every move, and William can’t bring himself to tear his own eyes away. They hold their hands so close that he can feel the heat of Theodore’s palm, even through their gloves, and longs to touch him. He thinks of the night he arrived, so full of hope, and the way Theodore had taken his bare hand in his, lifting his spirits so high just to destroy them the following evening.

It is as if the ballroom fades away around them. William has never felt anything like this, and thinks that he probably never will again. He only has eyes for Theodore, his dear friend, and it seems as if he feels the same, moving so close to William as they pass that the brush of his jacket makes William’s stomach flip. His cheeks feel so hot and red, and he feels sweat drip down his back beneath his underclothes, but Theodore shows no signs of finding him unbecoming. If anything, it seems as if he is bewitched, his gaze hot and heavy on his face, and then, the slightest flicker- his eyes drop to William’s mouth, just for the briefest of seconds. 

William allows himself, for just a moment, to imagine this as a night that will be like the ones he’s dreamt of many a time; that once they are done dancing, they will sneak into the garden together, or find a secret room where no one can find them, or go home, and William will be able to kiss Theodore again, and again, and never stop.

But the song is over, and they stand across from each other again, and as they both bow and then turn to clap for the band, William finds he cannot meet Theodore’s gaze again, fearing his feelings will show too plainly on his face. The longing he feels in his body is like a physical ache, fingers twitching as Theodore comes close, but he closes his hand into a fist to keep himself from touching.

“You’ve gotten much more skilled, my friend,” he practically chokes out, finally able to smile slightly up at Theodore. “I remember you at fifteen, hardly able to keep from tripping over your own feet.”

“So have you,” Theodore says softly. “I wish we had learned to dance together.”

“Do not say such things,” William whispers, looking away from his friend’s face, and then they are swallowed back up by Theodore’s group.

William excuses himself after a moment, saying he needs to find some refreshment and maybe a bit of fresh air, and snags a second glass of wine on his way out of doors. The gardens are lush and dark, lit by lanterns here and there, and he takes a deep breath as he walks across the dewy grass, the feeling of the cool night air on his hot cheeks a welcome change. 

His dance with Theodore shook something loose in him that he had kept bottled up all week, and he feels as if he might cry, weak and sorrowful at the prospect of his lost love. He allows one tear to sneak out from under his lashes before taking his handkerchief and wiping his eyes, taking another deep breath of the cool night air, and bolsters himself to go back up to the house.

As he approaches, he notices a man sitting in a chair in shadow, and when the light from his pipe flares, William sees the handsome face of Mr. Lively. He curses internally and hopes the man hasn’t seen him, trying to make it back inside the house, but-

“Oh, Mr. Preston!” Mr. Lively calls out. “Won’t you join me for a smoke?”

William steels himself and makes his way over, leaning against one of the pillars that lines the outside of the house once he approaches. “That’s quite alright, Mr. Lively, I was feeling quite light-headed from the heat, and I’m not sure if the smoke would make me feel any better.”

“Then you can keep me company while I indulge,” Mr. Lively says, as if it is fact. “Are you enjoying the ball so far, Mr. Preston? I saw you danced with the lovely Miss Elizabeth.”

“I did. She is quite a talented dancer,” William responds politely.

“You must see now why Theodore is so fond of her,” Mr. Lively continues, taking a puff from his pipe. The smell of the tobacco makes William feel a little ill. “She is accomplished in many other ways- well read, a lovely artist, and talented at the pianoforte, as well. You two should play a duet together for us.”

“If she were to invite me I wouldn’t be able to refuse.” William takes a sip from his wine, and feels it settle heavy and warm in his stomach, heat rising to his cheeks. “She seems like a lovely woman.”

“Yes, she is,” Mr. Lively says, and rises suddenly to his feet. He’s much taller than William, probably of height with Theodore, but as he gets closer William feels it more acutely, though he doesn’t let his discomfort show. He’s used to large men throwing their weight around him, being as small as he is. “It seems as if Theodore and her might be engaged, this season.”

“Oh?” William says, and Mr. Lively steps even closer, the smell of his tobacco lingering and making William feel even more sick. “You seem quite invested in their relationship, Mr. Lively.”

“Why don’t you call me Raphael, William,” Mr. Lively says, and stops a couple inches in front of him. His breath smells of wine as well as tobacco, and William feels pinned for just a moment, back against the cold stone pillar. 

“I’m afraid I only call my closest friends by their given names, Mr. Lively,” William says stiffly, and jerks in shock as Mr. Lively places his hand on his shoulder.

“We could be close friends, if you wished it, William,” Mr. Lively says softly, bending close to William’s face. William refuses to shy away, staring steadily up into the man’s gaze, even as he takes WIlliam’s wine glass out of his hand, placing it on the ground. “Theodore has quite loose lips while he is intoxicated. I know of what you had as children- and since he has moved on, I would love to be the one to show you the ways of the world that he could not.”

William clenches his jaw and swallows roughly, despair filling him at hearing his sorrows confirmed and laid out so clearly by this man. That bitter misery allows him to respond, “Even if I had never learned the ways of the world, I would never lower myself to learn them with one such as you.”

Mr. Lively’s face twists in anger, and he steps even closer, boxing William in. “So you're telling me that you have lain with some farm boy, but will not lay with me? My yearly salary would make any of the backwater peasants beg for me to allow them in my company. I have boys just as pretty as you lining up at my bedroom door.”

William shivers in revulsion as Mr. Lively strokes over his cheek, and he ducks out from under his arm, clenching his hands into fists so they will not shake. “Even if I had lain with every boy in town and not just one, I would never lie with a man as pompous and repellant as you. If you have boys as pretty as me lining up at your door, you must see to them, and I will leave you to accept their services. Good evening, Mr. Lively.”

William turns on his heel and makes his way back inside. The light of the house blinds him for a moment after the darkness out of doors, and he startles when he bumps chest first into Theodore, who catches him by the arms to keep him from tripping. 

“Oh, my friend, where are you headed to in such a rush?” Theodore says, but there is an undercurrent of something trembling in his voice. William wonders for a moment what is the matter, falling into old habits, but now is not the time or place to have that conversation.

“Just had a very unpleasant encounter, my friend, but no matter,” William says, taking a step back out of Theodore’s grip, who lets him go easily. “I was hoping to find Miss Stratford for a dance.”

A wave of flickering emotion washes over Theodore’s face, too quick for William to parse, and he ducks his head before saying softly, “She is in the ballroom, with Miss Elizabeth.”

William nods, feeling the ache of the distance between them and the shock of what had just happened outside the house, and leaves his friend as he makes his way further into the bustle. He doesn’t turn around, knowing he will run back to his friend and confess everything if he does, but feels as if there are eyes on his back the whole way, nonetheless.

He finds Miss Stratford’s blonde curls easily, and she takes him up on his offer of a dance readily and with grace. They actually flow quite well together, and William finds himself smiling as they dance, enjoying himself. She jokes to him under her breath as they pass, and the lighthearted mood lifts his spirits after an otherwise tumultuously emotional evening; he finds himself aware that he could become fond of her, if he wasn’t so recently heartbroken.

“Mr. Preston, you seem quite lost in thought,” She whispers to him as they pass, and he shakes his head slightly, feeling as if it is stuffed with cotton.

“It’s nothing, I apologize,” he responds, and smiles at her. “The ball is so stimulating, and I’ve been feeling a bit tired after this long week, so I feel a bit out of sorts.”

“Oh, I get that way all the time. As much fun as the balls are, I almost don’t want to see anyone for a week after,” she says with a giggle, and they turn around one another as the music plays.

They dance for a couple of songs, and when the band takes a break, they turn to clap with the rest. William feels pink in the face and a little light-headed again, but doesn’t want to venture out into the garden alone, fearing a repeat of his interaction with Mr. Lively. He feels sick to his stomach as he ponders over it as Miss Stratford and him rejoin their group, and hopes that Theodore doesn’t spend much time with Mr. Lively. Theodore still seems so sweet, his heart not changed so drastically from their youth, but to think of him being tarnished by a man with Mr. Lively’s character hurts William’s soul.

Mr. Stratford has finally joined the group when they return, and to William’s dismay, so has Mr. Lively. William doesn’t look at the man, though he feels his eyes heavy upon his face, and he swallows down the feeling of disgust at the way the man’s eyes rest heavy like a physical touch. Theodore stands next to him, solid and strong and warm, fidgeting the slightest bit as Miss Vincent speaks to him, and William wishes dearly to leave.

“Mr. Preston, how are you enjoying your evening? I hope that this is a warm enough welcome to the city for you?” Mr. Stratford asks, standing on the other side of his sister. She smiles at William as her brother asks the question, and William doesn’t find it difficult to return the expression as he responds.

“It is very fine, and quite a joyous time. I must pay my compliments to the hosts,” William says, and they both laugh.

“The music is to your taste?” Mr. Stratford continues. “Have you had a chance to play at the pianoforte? I’m sure we could all enjoy a reprise of your playing from the other night.”

William cannot think of anything he would rather do less, to play his song for Theodore in front of a room full of people, but Miss Stratford saves him by placing a hand on her brother’s bent arm. “Oh, Walter, it’s quite alright. Mr. Preston said he was feeling a bit out of sorts, we wouldn’t want to strain him anymore this evening. I’m sure he will play for us at the next ball.”

“If he is to come,” Mr. Lively chimes in. “If he deigns to speak with any of us, so high and mighty as he is.”

There is an awkward silence from the group, a ripple of shock at the blunt rudeness of their friend’s words, and William finally stares at Mr. Lively, meeting his gaze. He notes the new glass of wine in the man’s hand. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

“My friend, I think you have had quite a lot to drink,” Mr. Stratford jokes, gripping his friend on the arm, but Mr. Lively shakes it off. 

“He knows exactly what I mean, and you do too, Walter,” Mr. Lively says, and Miss Stratford shifts next to William, looking around discreetly at the people nearby, clearly listening in for any morsel of gossip. “He is a facetious, hypocritical, baseborn man, trying to fit into the shoes of someone much larger than he.”

“Raphael!” Theodore exclaims in shock, along with Mr. Stratford and Miss Stratford, all of them taken-aback at their friend’s words. William puts his hand on Theodore’s arm as he steps forward slightly, instinct wanting to keep his friend from doing anything rash.

“That is quite enough, friend,” Mr. Stratford says, gripping Mr. Lively’s arm again, firmly enough that he can’t remove his hand this time. “Let me show you to a room where you may have some quiet.”

He steers Mr. Lively away without another word and William swallows, still holding tight to Theodore’s arm, unable to let go. His cheeks feel hot with embarrassment, even though he knows no one blames him for the outburst, nor do they know what happened outside. Miss Stratford is equally pink, and Miss Vincent moves across the circle to take her arm to comfort her cousin.

“Theodore, I’m going to take Johanna for a turn,” Miss Vincent says, and Theodore nods as they retreat. He looks down at William, shock still clear on his face, and places his hand gently on top of William’s; the heat of his palm is apparent and comforting even through their fine gloves.

“Let’s go get some fresh air, my friend,” Theodore says softly, and the two of them make their way outside. Theodore’s hand rests heavily on William’s the whole way out, keeping it in the crook of his arm, and William doesn’t pull away, even as people whisper behind their hands as they pass. The night air isn’t as refreshing this time, William feeling ill and hot all over, and he wishes for a place to sit, if just for a moment.

“Bill, I apologize for Raphael,” Theodore says. “He gets quite lively when in his cups, but that doesn’t excuse the things he said to you.”

“It’s quite alright,” William responds, and doesn’t remove his hand from Theodore’s arm. “I know that is what many people think of me, but I don’t mind. I know my own self, and that is what matters.”

Theodore looks down at him, eyes flitting between William’s, and William longs to go up on his toes to kiss him, wanting to remove that furrow between his brow. Theodore opens and closes his mouth a couple times, taking a deep breath, and says softly, “I may have heard some of what he said to you, out here.”

William feels a hot flush of mortification wash through him. “Oh.”

“I do not blame you, my friend. I would never,” Theodore says, rushing through his words, as if he is worried William will mistake them for something else. “He was incredibly inappropriate. It was quite shocking- I’ve never heard him speak to someone in that way.”

William thinks of what else he said, the way he had lied and implied that he had lain with another, and hopes that Theodore didn’t hear that. “I must admit, I was quite taken aback. He was very… forward, for a man of such high status.”

Theodore swallows, adam’s apple bobbing at his collar, and clutches William’s hand where it still rests in the crook of his arm. “I am truly sorry, Bill, for the egregious behavior of a man I considered a friend.”

William nods, feeling a hot flush of warmth wash through him at Theodore’s loyalty, even after all these years. He feels dizzy suddenly, and sways for a moment before Theodore steadies him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Bill, are you alright?”

William swallows, and finally allows himself to confess, “My friend, I feel quite odious, if I may be allowed to admit it.”

“Then we must get you home. The carriage can take us, and come back for my father and brother,” Theodore says softly, and puts his hand back on William’s in the crook of his arm. “Come along then.”

“I think I will be quite alright, Ted, I just need to sit for a moment and maybe find something to eat,” William says, feeling a little indignant at being coddled. He didn’t admit how he was feeling to be treated like a child. “I’m sure you know where the kitchens are, having visited this house so often?”

“Bill, don’t be silly,” Theodore chides, but he’s smiling, as if William is being playful. “There’s nothing the matter with leaving early. I do it all the time.”

“Oh yes, I’m aware,” William says, suddenly feeling incredibly annoyed. “Deacon told me of how you disappear during these parties, not to be found by anyone who seeks you out.”

Theodore looks taken aback. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I think you know what I mean, Theodore,” William says, his ill feeling and light-headedness fueling the bitterness that had been building within him all week and through the evening. “Have you really changed so? Consorting with these types who look down upon men like me who are just trying to make something of themselves, who titter behind their hands as if they are being clever and sly- but then turn out like Mr. Lively, making lecherous and unseemly passes as soon as you give them a kind word?”

Theodore stares dumbly at William, eyes wide and mouth hanging open unbecomingly. His guileless look drives William's anger even higher, as it so resembles the boy of his childhood whom William feels may be lost forever to these wolves.

“They must have shown some aspect of their character to you, Ted,” William says, almost sounds as if he is pleading now, and he curses himself for being so emotional. “How can you be so blind?”

“Bill, you know not what you speak of,” Theodore says, and he sounds wretched, frustration and bitterness and agony all laced through his tone. “If you had known how I suffered-”

“I  _ do _ know, Ted,” William says plaintively. “I know, because you shared your heart with me in every letter. I know, because I felt it too. But in the past couple of years you-”

“Theodore?”

A woman’s voice speaks quietly from the doorway, and the two of them turn to see Miss Vincent and Miss Stratford, looking hesitantly out of the door at them. William does not look at Theodore’s face, knowing that he would only find worry at being caught speaking of these things in earshot of his new beau, standing so close to William that they could be considered to be engaged themselves. He goes to tug his hand from Theodore’s arm, but to his surprise his friend holds tightly to his fingers, not allowing him to retreat.

“Hello, Elizabeth, Johanna,” Theodore says roughly. “We apologize for our volume.”

“It’s quite alright,” Miss Stratford says, subdued. “Is anything the matter? Besides, well...”

“William doesn’t feel well,” Theodore says. “I was just going to call the carriage around and take him home.”

“No,” William says abruptly, and finally tugs his hand from Theodore’s grasp. “I will call the carriage, and I will return home alone. You must stay, Theodore. I won’t have your night ruined on my behalf.”

“ _ Bill _ ,” Theodore says, and it is like a twist of the knife, him using that special nickname in front of these women. William turns to the ladies and bows, forcing them to curtsey in return.

“I thank you for the lovely evening, Miss Stratford, and for being a most excellent dance partner. I do not fault you for any other unfortunate happenings of the evening, and I look forward to seeing you again,” William says. He turns to Miss Vincent and says, “It was wonderful to meet you as well, Miss Vincent. Goodnight to you both.”

He walks back into the house without another word.

He doesn’t know how he gets out of the house, everything a blur of beautiful cotton and linen and gold, but he finally finds himself in his bed after a cold, bumpy carriage ride. He presses his hot face to the cool sheets, and dreams of dancing with Theodore, meeting in the middle of an empty ballroom for a kiss.

\---

William wakes abruptly to Theodore bursting into his room.

“Bill, my friend, are you awake?” Theodore says softly, and William groans, half asleep and unable to keep himself from making the unbecoming noise. He feels tired and achy, but much better than when he went to sleep last night, and he blinks at his friend where he lingers in the doorway.

“What is it, Ted? Is something the matter?” He says back, his voice rough, and he yawns behind his palm.

Theodore comes over to the bed and sits, taking William’s hand in his, and William flushes at the forward nature of Theodore’s actions, suddenly aware of how he is only wearing his linens and the way Theodore has his banyan loosely tied around his waist, as if he had only just sprung from bed as well.

“My dear friend, please come on a ride with me today,” Theodore says, almost pleadingly, and William feels off-kilter, like he’s missed a step in the dance. “We can have the cook pack us a lunch, and set off after breakfast. There is such a lovely spot of nature a couple miles north of here. I long to show it to you.”

“Are you not tired from the ball?” William asks, feeling his cheeks flush at the warmth of Theodore’s palm. “You must have gotten home quite late.”

“I feel fine, though,” Theodore pauses. “Do you feel alright? I know you… you seemed quite poorly yesterday evening.”

William thinks of the harsh words he spoke and feels a hot rush of shame go through him, stifling even the butterflies in his tummy at how close Theodore is. “Ted, I-”

“Do not worry, my friend,” Theodore says softly, squeezing William’s fingers. “I do not blame you. It was quite a dramatic evening, with much being thrown your way. I apologize for bringing you into such a situation.”

“No, Ted, it wasn’t your fault.” William says, and hoists himself up so he’s sitting, placing his free hand on Theodore’s. “I feel much better today, and I can think of nothing I’d rather do more than go on a ride, my friend.”

Theodore smiles so wide before ducking his head, and William’s belly flips at the sight of that grin. He realizes he hasn’t seen his friend smile like that since he arrived, and longs to do anything that makes his friend that happy-  _ anything. _ Theodore’s eyes drop for a moment, and he goes red in the face before standing suddenly and retreating.

“I will see you soon, at breakfast, and then we will set off,” Theodore says, and meets William’s eyes for just one moment, smile blinding. “We are going to have a most excellent day, my friend.”

William nods, and Theodore shuts the door with a quiet snap. He sits, for a moment, brain still feeling foggy from sleep, and brings an absentminded hand up to his chest, where he finds his linens to have come untied, leaving the line of his throat and much of his collar and chest exposed. He feels hot in the face at knowing Theodore glimpsed him in this way, but also feels a little flip in his belly to think of the way he made his friend blush with his exposed skin. 

Everything is such a confusing tangle, William thinks as he gets out of bed and begins to dress slowly. One moment, it is as if Theodore still wants him desperately, reaching out to him and looking at him in deeply amorous ways, and then the next he is pulled away by commitments William has now knowledge of, sucked into this new life he has built without him. Such is the way of the world, he thinks sadly, but wishes that it was not so, wishes that they could return to the easy, summertime love of their youth.

He makes his way downstairs for breakfast once he’s dressed, not feeling particularly hungry but knowing he should eat something before his long day ahead, and joins the Logan’s at the table. He’s always the last to arrive, as Chief Logan has instilled much earlier hours in his sons, but for once doesn’t feel awkward as he sits, sharing a sweet smile with Theodore across the table. He is determined to be more pleasant to his friend today, trying to make up for his harsh words the previous evening.

“How did you find the ball, Mr. Preston?” The Chief asks, cutting his potatoes. “Theodore told me that you had to retire early.”

“It was quite stimulating,” William says, carefully scraping jam across a piece of bread. Now that he’s actually at the table laid with food, he can hardly stomach eating it, even though he knows he must. He wishes the Chief would stop talking so he could focus on choking down his food. “The week was very long; I believe I was just overly tired.”

“Yes, the bustling pace of the city can take some getting used to,” Chief Logan replies. “Very different from the village.”

“I can’t say I don’t miss the slower pace and fresh air,” William responds, and takes a bite of his bread. 

The Chief hums and goes back to his newspaper, and Theodore catches William’s eye across the table, pressing his lips together as his nostrils flare. William has to duck his head to make sure he can hide his smile behind the bread in his hand, taking another bite and chewing slowly as he tries not to laugh.

The rest of the meal is much of the same, and William wonders if he really did drink too much last night, to continue to feel out of sorts today. It does feel like he might be coming down with something- he’s used to powering through illness to get work done, so even if he is, he knows that he can make it through the ride today. He’s desperately coveted time alone with his dear friend, hoping that maybe if they finally are uninterrupted, they can speak of their long years of longing letters and sweet words.

He thinks of last night, the way that they had begun to talk, and is glad they had been interrupted, both of them heated and emotional in a way that may have led to argument rather than reconciliation. Even with the agony of this week, wondering if his chance to ever be loved by Theodore again had been washed away, he found himself hoping- the events of last night, combined with the sweetness of Theodore this morning… could he even dare wish for it?

They set off a couple of hours after breakfast, allowing themselves to relax in the parlor after eating and then get dressed in their riding clothes, Theodore with his satchel of breads and dried meats, William with just himself. They leave through the back garden- there are streets back here, and houses, but it doesn’t take long before the edges of the suburb start to appear. As the homes begin to become fewer and farther between and they ride over the crest of a hill, William has gotten used to riding again, falling into the natural sway of the horse’s steps.

He does not find much time to ride at home, preferring walks across the countryside, but he still knows how from long hours at it in childhood and the occasional ride as an adult. His horse is an old mare named Heidi, a sweet speckled thing who responds willingly to William’s touch, and he directs her to follow Theodore, sitting tall and handsome on his chestnut stallion, Johannes.

William has to focus to not relax his posture, still feeling weak and under the weather, and he watches the countryside unroll before them as a beautiful backdrop for Theodore’s wide shoulders and trim waist, the way he uses his thighs to turn his horse, the dark wool of his coat making the shape of him irresistible. William is glad he can just watch, unbeknownst to anyone but himself, and allows himself the indulgence until Theodore turns his head and catches him.

“Isn’t it wonderful? I discovered this route soon after we arrived here. I believe Johannes knows his way better than I do, by now,” Theodore says with a grin, and he is so beautiful William can almost not behold him.

“It is truly stunning,” William says, unable to tear his eyes away from Theodore, and his friend goes red across his cheeks before ducking his head.

They ride for an hour or two before settling down, but William cannot bring himself to eat, so he just lays in the sweet smelling grass and closes his eyes as he lets his body relax. He hears Theodore shifting and digging through their satchel, picking things out for their lunch, and lets himself imagine a world where Theodore would lean over and kiss him as a surprise.

“Would you like to eat?” Theodore asks, and William shakes his head, feeling the sun on his face. 

“I haven’t much of an appetite today,” William responds, and smiles at him. “You may eat without me, I do not mind.”

They stay quiet while Theodore eats, and William feels the pleasant silence between them like a warm blanket, easy and soft and comfortable. This is what he had hoped for when he was riding the carriage down from up North- of course, he had hoped that he and Theodore would rekindle their love affair, but in the absence of that, all he wishes for is the comfortable feeling of a dear friend at his side.

“Bill, I am so glad that you accompanied me today,” Theodore says softly, and William cracks his eyes open to see his friend watching him, leaning his weight on his hand and his cheek on his shoulder. His hair falls softly around his face from the breeze, pink in the cheeks from the first part of their ride, and William  _ aches _ , desperately, to reach out. He closes his eyes, feeling the sweat drip down the back of his neck, even with the cool air of the day.

“I am, as well,” William says, and then, foolishly tacks on, “would you not rather be here with Miss Vincent?”

He hears Theodore shift but refuses to open his eyes and see his friend’s expression. “No, whyever would I?”

“Because you obviously care very deeply for her,” William says, getting frustrated. Why won’t Theodore just admit to his feelings? “It is unkind to her to deny that.” 

_ And unkind to me _ , he thinks, but does not say.

The grass rustles in the silence that follows in his words, and William is suddenly aware of the way the sun has gone behind the clouds while the breeze has picked up. He opens his eyes to find ominous storm clouds rushing across the horizon, making the beautiful morning disappear at the promise of rain.

“I wish you would let me explain,” Theodore says softly, and William finally looks at him. Theodore looks absolutely miserable- gone is his relaxed, open posture. Now he sits hunched in on himself, picking at the grass by his trousers. “You say you understand, but I believe you do not… not at all, Bill.”

“We must get home, Ted,” William says, and rises, swaying a little as he becomes lightheaded for a moment. Too much activity on an empty stomach, he thinks, and goes over to his horse to gather her reigns, trying to shake out the ache in his shoulders. “See, the storm clouds to the west? We won’t beat them, but if we get started now we may limit our time in the rain.”

“Why do you avoid talking to me so, Bill?” Theodore cries suddenly, and William is shocked into stillness. 

“I am not, the rain-”

“You  _ are _ , Bill, you do not wish to hear what I have to say,” Theodore sounds so distressed and hurt that it turns the knife in William a little harder, the bitter sadness filling him. He pets his hand over Heidi’s flank to soothe her as she whinnies.

“Please do not fault me for that,” William says, and unwillingly, his voice cracks. “Let us get along. We can… I will listen, when we get home. I will hear what you have to say.”

He turns, and Theodore looks wild with emotion, his hair whipping in the breeze, eyes wet and cheeks red. He stands like he’s bracing for something, some invisible blow, but when he meets William’s eyes he deflates suddenly, and goes over to his own horse without a word.

They ride in silence, and William feels the agony of that painful knife in his heart the whole way, stomach clenching around nothing at the way Theodore was so upset. His friend’s shoulders are hunched as he rides, and he doesn’t turn to speak to William, even when the rain catches up to them and softly begins to fall.

William is grateful for his wool coat, shivering in the cool wind, but even turning up his collar does not help when the rain begins to fall harder, soon plastering his hair to his skull and soaking through his cotton trousers. He shivers hard, clutching at the reins with freezing fingers, and feels a rush through his head again, like waves crashing on the shore over and over. He closes his eyes tightly as he shivers again, and again, and then cannot stop shaking, curling in on himself as he struggles to stay on his horse. 

He lifts a freezing hand to feel his forehead, like his mother had done to him so many times as a child, and finds he is burning hot, face flushed and red under his fingers- he may have been more ill than he had thought, after all. He looks at the line of Theodore’s shoulders ahead of him, strong and wide, and the distance between them grows as Heidi becomes distracted without his urging her along.

“Ted,” William says, but his voice is too soft over the pattering of the rain, teeth chattering, and he tries again. “Ted!”

Another wave of dizziness washes over him, following in the wake of a violent shiver, and he curls over again, clutching to his reins and the edge of the saddle. He squeezes his thighs tight around Heidi’s sides, and feels her move forward at a trot, and it’s all he can do to hold on for dear life so he doesn’t slip right off her side.

“Bill-” Theodore says in surprise as Heidi comes up close to him, but then immediately William feels a strong grip on the back of his coat. “Bill, what is the matter?”

“Faint,” William says softly, shivering violently, and moans at the way his body aches in the cold. “Don’t want to fall,  _ Ted. _ ”

“Oh my friend,” Theodore says plaintively, and there is a sudden jerk on the back of his coat as he shifts. “Why did you not tell me you felt so poorly?”

William shakes his head, and shivers again as Theodore’s hands come to his on the reins. It is an awkward dance, getting William, faint and weak, off of his horse and on to Theodore’s, but they do it, and when Theodore swings himself on to the back of Johannes, William has stars behind his eyes.

“Going to fall,” William says, fear threaded through his voice as he grips tightly to the saddle, but Theodore just hooks an arm around his waist and grasps the reins in his hand, using his other to hold the reins of Heidi.

“I would never let you fall, my friend,” Theodore says softly, mouth so close to William’s ear, and urges the stallion on so they begin to move forward at a slow pace. William shivers violently, even with the warm wall of Theodore’s chest behind him, and turns his face to press his forehead to his friend’s jaw, squeezing his eyes shut tightly at the rocking of their mount.

“You’re positively burning, Bill,” Theodore says, voice tight with alarm. “You’re incredibly ill.”

“Wanted to spend time with you,” William says softly, honest in the face of his illness, and feels the sharp breath Theodore takes, though he doesn’t say anything else.

The rest of the ride home is a haze- they have to go slowly so that Theodore can control Johannes while keeping a tight hand on both William and Heidi’s reins, and William just tries to stay conscious, drifting in and out with the rocking of the horse, shivering in Theodore’s arms. He feels dreadful, waves of hot and cold rushing through him, stomach twisting on nothing, and it’s like a dream when nature gives way to a home, and then two, as they near their destination.

Theodore shouts when they arrive, and a servant runs out to take the horses from his grasp. William makes a fearful noise as Theodore presses against him gently to get him to lean forward, but just shushes him softly, and says, “Come, my dear friend, let us get you inside.”

He helps William swing his leg over the horse and slide off, catching him when his knees buckle as he hits the ground, and then picks him up easily, wrapping an arm around his back and scooping the other under his knees fluidly. William feels small and helpless in his arms, shivering as he presses his hot face against Theodore’s jaw and brings heavy arms up to wrap around his neck, and just wishes to be out of his sodden clothing, the cold drip of rain and sweat down his back making his quaking worse.

The house is warm and dry, and a servant kindles the fire so it burns brightly as Theodore settles William in a chair, kneeling at his feet to remove his boots. He goes up on his knees to help William lean forward, hands so gentle on the back of his head as he tucks William’s face into his neck, and slides his hands across his shoulders to divest him of his jacket.

“ _ Ted, _ ” William says softly, almost a whimper, and Theodore shushes him again, unbuttoning his waistcoat.

“I will take care of you, my friend,” Theodore says, and smooths the fabric down William’s arms. The tiny buttons of his shirt come next, but when Theodore goes to unbutton his trousers, William catches his hands weakly.

“Let a servant, I cannot- I do not wish-” William says weakly, unable to get the words out, and Theodore stiffens before helping William recline back against the chair again. He already misses the strong line of Theodore’s shoulder under his head, the way his hands were steady and sure as they helped him undress, but he doesn’t think his heart could take knowing how it felt, just to never feel it again.

Theodore’s expression is closed off as he stands, and he says, “I will be right back in as soon as you are decent and in bed.”

He retreats out the door, closing it with a quiet click as one of the house servants comes to help William out of the rest of his sodden clothing, and he shivers again, dreadfully wishing for a hot bath but unable to gather the words to speak. He doesn’t even know if he would have the energy to get in and out of the bath alone, and would loathe to seem even more weak in the face of these strangers.

Once he’s huddled under his thickest blankets, fire roaring in the grate and bed warmer near his feet, Theodore returns, having shed his wet clothes for a hastily thrown on pair of trousers and his quilted banyan. William is still shivering, feeling incredibly ill, but he still squeezes his friend’s hand gently as Theodore drags a chair over to sit by his bedside and takes William’s hand in both of his own.

“I’m afraid our talk will have to wait, my friend,” William says weakly, and Theodore clutches his hand tight, so warm against William’s still frigidly cold fingers. He chafes them between his palms, blowing on them to try to warm him up, and William feels a fond wash of feeling diffuse through him, radiating out from his heart.

“It does not matter, my friend,” Theodore says softly. “You must be well, that is all that matters. We have called for the doctor already, but you must sleep, and warm up.”

Theodore presses his bare hand to William’s forehead, cool against his feverish skin, and William thinks of how he has longed for this touch for years. He sighs and finally closes his eyes, at ease with Theodore at his bedside.

\---

William wakes in a cold sweat, shivering as he pulls the blankets tighter around himself even as he feels like he's going to burn up, like the bed warmer under his sheets has spilled and is going to light the bed on fire, too hot, hot like a summer's day but a hundred times worse, longing for the cool touch of a hand on your brow, a dip in the stream to calm the red in your cheeks, ice from the ice box to suck on and exchange cold kisses with your best friend while you giggle against each others lips.

He feels as if the blanket is crushing him, even as he pulls it tighter, struggling as it gets caught and he can't pull it free, and he begins to cry, his tears cool and wet against his burning cheeks, and wishes his mother would come check on him. She always used to sit by his bedside while he was ill, where is she?

"Don't cry, Bill, I'm here."

William just cries harder, body shaking through the waves of heat and cold, sobbing into his pillow and wrestling weakly with the blanket, kicking and struggling against it. He's being crushed, he can't move, he can't breathe, he's so hot he's going to burn to a crisp, like a letter thrown into the fire. His mother isn't coming, her soft, cool hand won't rest upon his cheek as she sings to him, he won't have a summer with her again, no more flowers tucked behind his ear. My mother, where is my mother?

"Shhh, shhh, my love,  _ please- _ "

There's a weight on his bed and then arms wrapped around him, pulling him close and holding him tight. He squirms as he cries, weak and pitiful and sorrowful, kicking at the blankets, but he's just held tighter, and eventually he tires himself out, shivering over and over as tears leak from the corners of his eyes onto the pillow, shaking as he makes soft noises and clutches at the soaked sheets. The house is going to collapse, he feels it, it's pressing against him, Ted’s going to die, they're all going to be crushed, his dear companion left to rot in this hellish city, away from the beauty of their youth and their love. Oh Ted, where is he, where has he gone, why has he left me?

"I'm here, Bill, I'm with you, I won't ever leave you again, I swear it. I'm yours forever, please don't cry, my love, my dearest,  _ please. _ "

William shivers and shivers and feels as if a heavy weight is pressing upon him, the sky falling down on him, he can see it, staring up at the ceiling of the room, the wide expanse of northern sky on a summer day, hot, so hot, the buzzing of insects loud in his ears, and Ted, Ted beside him, Ted leaning over him and cupping his face in his hands as he looks down at him. His hands are so cool, so large and safe, kind, soft hands that hold William’s in the summer.

"I'm here, you're safe, I'm not going to let anything happen to you. You'll be well soon, Bill, I won't let anyone take you from me again."

William closes his eyes with a sigh, feeling the waves of heat and cold wash over his skin, heat pressed all along his back and the strong arms holding him in place, and thinks that if he's going to die, there's no place he'd rather be than in Ted's arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Bill is going to be fine, don't worry! Love, Me.


	4. PART III

After that first awful night, William slowly gets better, his fever never peaking with the same intensity again. He hardly remembers the first twenty-four hours, in and out of his delusions and hallucinations, but what he does remember is that Theodore was always by his side, laying a cool cloth on his forehead to try to bring his body heat down, or trying to get him to eat just a little something, helping him to sit up and spooning broth to his mouth.

It would be embarrassing, if it were anyone else, but William finds that he’s comforted by the constant presence of his dear friend. He decides during a period of lucidity that he should be allowed to find relief in the touch of Theodore’s hand, or in the strong, supportive line of his body. He has already seen him at his lowest and still remains, and so, William thinks, he will take what he can get.

As he gets better and better, he appreciates Theodore’s company in a new way, finding the distance between them closing with each passing day. They become easy friends again, spending time in silence or in conversation, Theodore reading to him when he becomes too tired to focus, or engaging him in the news from his friends. They do not speak of their feelings for one another, or anyone else- William cannot bear to hear it when he is still so ill, and Theodore seems to think the same, not wanting to strain his friend any more than necessary, especially with how heated they had become the last few times they had spoken. 

Along with that, if Theodore were to bring it up, William could not extract himself, bedridden as he is, and his friend is too kind-hearted to take advantage of such a situation. William looks at Theodore where he sits beside his bed, curled up in the comfortable chair he had dragged in from the parlor early on, reading to him softly while wrapped in his quilted banyan, and feels such a fondness for the man overtake him that it brings tears to his eyes. He tries to surreptitiously wipe away the wetness, but his friend notices, of course he does, and places the novel on the bed as he takes William’s free hand.

“Are you feeling alright, my friend? Should I call for the doctor?” Theodore asks, worried and so sweet, and William shakes his head.

“No, I am just... I am so glad you are here with me,” William says, and Theodore’s face twists so tenderly it is almost impossible to behold him.

“I am glad I can be here with you,” Theodore says softly, and squeezes his hand. He shifts in his chair, trying to become more comfortable as he continues to hold William’s hand, and there is a glint at his neck, a chain, and then, peeking out from his open shirt collar-

A locket.

William stares at it for a moment before the warmth of Theodore’s affection is replaced by a cold wash of agony, the knife in his heart twisting so suddenly he feels as if he might have a physical reaction. He squeezes Theodore’s hand unwillingly, and when Theodore sees where his eyes are looking he brings a hand up to his collar. When he touches the locket, his face twists with a bevy of emotions, terror to sorrow to agony, and he clutches the small charm in his palm so tight his knuckles turn white.

“It is nothing, my friend, just a trinket,” Theodore says quickly, but his voice shakes.

“That is a lover’s locket, do not take me for a fool,” William says, and it comes out harsher than he intended. Theodore’s face twists before he ducks his head, and he lets go of William’s hand.

“We must have this conversation now, then,” Theodore says. “I had hoped to wait until you were well.”

“I am well enough,” William says, and begins to shift, lifting himself on weak arms to sit against his pillows. Theodore leans in to help, but William waves him off, saying, “I can sit up myself.”

Theodore leans back in his chair, looking so small despite his large frame, buried in his banyan as he fiddles with it’s ties nervously, and his hand loosens on the locket, playing with it where it rests at the dip of his collarbones. It is as undressed as he has ever been this whole week- it is no wonder why William has not seen the jewelry before. When he finally gets settled, breathing heavily, William clutches his hands together in his lap to hide their tremors.

“It is true, it is a lover’s locket,” Theodore says softly, not meeting his eyes, and another stab of sorrow goes through William at the admission.

“It is alright, my friend,” William says, and makes his peace with it as well as he can, hating how miserable Theodore looks. “You may tell me.”

Theodore looks up at him, eyes wide and a bit wet, and swallows heavily before he says, “I do not wish to make you uncomfortable.”

William shakes his head and squeezes his hands together harder. “I will take it, for you. Has she not wondered where you’ve been this week, sitting by my bedside?”

A little furrow forms between Theodore’s brow. “What?”

“Miss Vincent,” William chokes out. “Or have you gone to visit while I was sleeping?”

“Why… what does she have to do with anything?” Theodore asks, and he sounds so confused that William doubts himself, so suddenly and abruptly that he feels lost at sea.

“I… Is the locket not… is it not for her?” William asks softly, and Theodore jerks forward to clasp his hands in his own, staring into William’s eyes intently.

“No, my dear friend,” Theodore says plaintively, and then retracts his hands just as suddenly to fumble with the clasp behind his neck, undoing the chain and handing it over. William stares down at the sweet gold circle, rubbing his fingers over it, and scarcely dares to hope as his nail finds the clasp and opens it gently.

Resting inside, coiled into a perfect circle, is the lock of his hair that he gave to Theodore, all those years ago.

He stares down at it, scarcely daring to breathe, and then looks up at Theodore, eyes wide and unblinking. Theodore stares back, swallowing heavily, and William feels a shiver go through him, goosebumps rising all across his arms.

“Oh, Ted,” William says, voice breaking, and Theodore’s face twists with emotion as he leans forward to cover the locket in William’s hands, closing it shut again and squeezing tight.

“I thought you knew,” Theodore says, voice wavering, and William shakes his head.

“I could only scarcely dare to hope, my dear friend,” William says. “I was… I was so afraid that you were to be engaged, and were to leave me behind.”

“ _ Never _ , I will never leave you again, Bill,” Theodore says fervently.

“I had thought… I thought you did not love me any longer,” William admits, so soft between them, and Theodore comes to sit on the edge of the bed in a flurry of movement, still grasping William’s hands tightly in his own between them.

“Of course I still love you, I have loved you all my life, and I…” Theodore takes a deep breath and looks deeply into William’s eyes. “I have never stopped loving you, Bill, I will  _ never _ stop. I am yours, body and soul.”

“And I am yours,” William says, brow drawing together as his eyes burn with tears. “I thought… I thought I would never have you. I was so lost.”

“I have felt like a ship in a storm,” Theodore says, and brings William’s hand where he is grasping the locket up to his mouth, pressing a lingering kiss to his skin. “I cannot imagine a world without you in it. The thought of you with another… I cannot fathom it. I would rather die.”

William shakes his head, squeezing Theodore’s hands tightly. “I have never been with another and never will be, my love, I swear it.”

Theodore’s brow draws up, and he suddenly can’t meet William’s eyes. He takes a deep breath, and says softly, “I heard… I heard what you said to Raphael… God, I wanted to kill him for speaking to you like that. I have never felt such a fury in my life.”

“I  _ lied _ ,” William gasps, and forces himself to sit up, shaking like a leaf through his weakness and his emotion. “I lied, you must believe me, Ted. I have never lain with anyone, I could never fathom being with anyone but you.”

“Truly?” Theodore sounds so hopeful, and William nods hard.

“Truly, Ted,  _ truly. _ I could not think of another way to remove him from my presence so assuredly. I have never even  _ dreamed  _ of being with another.”

“But,” Theodore hesitates again, and sounds sorrowful when he speaks again. “I remember, from your letters, two years ago… you mentioned someone, a fine young man. You could not stop speaking of him for months.”

“He was but a friend, and nothing more. I missed you so terribly, Ted… I’ve been so lonely,” William says. “I try to make friends, but many only see me as the man who will inherit his father’s business.”

“I would never,” Ted replies fervently.

“Is that why… your words of love? Is that why they stopped?” William suddenly realizes, chastising himself for being so  _ stupid _ .

Theodore looks pained, and he lifts William’s hands to his mouth again to press a kiss to his fingers. “I thought… I wanted to allow you to let me go, if you wanted. I never want to hold you back, if you wish for something. Your hopes are my hopes, Bill, your dreams my dreams.”

William finally lets the tears burning in his eyes fall as he leans forward to press his forehead against Ted’s, feeling a tear land on the back of his hand. “My dear, I feel the same. I was trying so hard to be happy for you… I thought that you and Miss Vincent were to be engaged.”

“No,” Theodore says emotionally, leaning into the press of William’s forehead. “She knows how ardently I love you. We are just dear friends, nothing more. If it… if you had passed me by, maybe we would have married… but it would have been a loveless marriage for the sake of my father.”

“Oh, Ted,” William says, trying to blink away his tears. “How foolish we have been.”

“Yes, it does seem that way,” Theodore says, laughing a little, and he loosens his grip on William’s hands to stroke over his cheek. “I will never love another as much as I love you, Bill. Seeing you again has only kindled the flames of my heart to burn even brighter.”

William nods, and goes to speak as a shiver wracks through him, causing him to shake all over. Theodore urges him to lay back down, tucking the blankets up around him and smoothing over his hair, and William watches as he reclasps the locket around his neck, tucking it under his shirt and holding it his heart for a moment, as if this is something he does by habit. A surge of warm affection rushes through him, and he grasps Theodore’s hand as he goes to sit in the chair again.

“Come here, Ted, before you sit back down,” William says, and Theodore blushes.

“I am here,” He says softly, but William shakes his head and tugs his hand.

“ _ Here, _ ” William whispers, and Theodore leans in closer, looking into his eyes, before pressing their lips together.

It is like coming home, the feeling of kissing his beloved again after all these years. A swooping happiness rushes through his stomach as he wraps his arm around Theodore’s neck to hold him close, his friend’s sweet hum of contentment vibrating against his lips. It is as chaste as can be, despite the desperate press, and even so William can feel himself shaking with it, having been untouched for so long. Theodore pulls back just a hair before pushing back in, and William makes a small noise in the back of his throat, clutching at Theodore’s hair and shoulders as their mouths open slightly, the secret slip of wetness intense and intimate.

Theodore pulls away after a moment, but only to bury his face in William’s neck, wrapping his arms around him tightly, and William feels so safe and warm in his hold as he clutches him back and tucks his nose into the secret space under his friend’s ear. What a relief it is to be held again, to know that his feelings of love are returned, to know that he has not lost his dearest friend after all.

“Oh, Bill, I am so overjoyed,” Theodore says softly, squeezing William even tighter for a moment. “I love you so.”

“I love you,” William responds, and it makes him feel as light as air to say it, even as he shakes. The illness has left him so weak that he feels as if he might leave his body behind him in his quivering, and Theodore kisses his cheek sweetly before helping him get comfortable again.

Theodore stays by his bed for the rest of the day as William dozes in and out, playing with his fingers on top of the covers as he reads to him. He feels buoyed by his love and the chaste kisses that Theodore presses to his hand and his cheek, and for the next couple of days, he finds his strength returning as a result of Theodore’s care.

He wakes after a nap one day feeling restless and hot, face pressed to his pillow, and pushes his hips down to the mattress with a soft noise, cock hard between his belly and the sheets. He feels better that he has all week, but his legs still shake in exertion as he flexes his thighs to press his hips down again, chasing his dream of hot skin and big hands and wet mouths.

“My dear, are you alright?”

Theodore’s voice jolts William to full wakefulness, and he gasps as he jerks in surprise, eyes flying open. Theodore is still sitting at his bedside, the remnants of their lunch still on a tray on the floor, and he looks at William in concern, reaching out to pet over his curls.

“Yes, yes, fine, Ted,” William says, but his voice is shaky, trying to will his cock to softness even as Theodore’s touch sets him on fire.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Theodore asks, and comes to sit on the side of the bed. William shakes his head and clutches at the sheets for a second, cheeks on fire, before turning on his side.

“No, I’m quite alright,” William responds, but he places his hand low on Theodore’s thigh. He can’t help himself, arousal singing through his veins and his love so close, and is rewarded with spots of color on Theodore’s cheeks. 

“You look quite red, has your fever returned?” Theodore asks, forever the sweet bedside helper, and places his cool hand to William’s blushing cheek. He can’t help but lean into it with a sigh, and Theodore strokes his thumb gently over his cheekbone.

“No, my dear, I swear to you I am quite alright,” William says, wishing he could peel his blanket down and show Theodore what is really the matter. His cock twitches at the thought, pressing against the linen of his undergarments, and he sighs again, squeezing his thighs together.

“Alright,” Theodore says softly, and smooths his hand down the blankets to settle them from where they had twisted in William’s sleep. He doesn’t run his hand over William’s body, moreso along side of it, but the pull of the blankets causes William to fall onto his back and the fabric to press over his cock. If the obvious tent in the linens wouldn’t have alerted Theodore to his predicament, William cannot help but make a small gasping noise as the quilt and sheets pull tightly across him, the rasping roughness of the fabric on the weeping head of his manhood a pleasurable tease. 

Ted makes a squeaking noise of surprise, staring at the little hill in the folds of the blankets, and then back up at William’s face, who is looking back as he pants, cheeks red and eyes hooded. 

“I am sorry, my friend, I did not wish to push,” William says, voice tight, and hopes that Theodore doesn’t take his arousal poorly. He wishes so intensely for Theodore to touch him, make good on all those promises in hastily written letters, poorly concealed longing to bring one another pleasure, both of them unaware of what it even meant other than what their own hands could do to themselves. 

They both know more now, William would bet, but he would never want to rush Theodore. He would happily stay chaste until they are married, though they haven’t even spoken of an engagement yet, and thinks of Theodore leaving him to his own hand right now, wanting so badly to touch but not allowed. It would be an incredible tease, to know Theodore is so close and yet unwilling just yet to touch him, but William would take it, and gladly, to know that Theodore knows what he does to him, and maybe would think of him next time he took himself in hand.

All his worries are for naught, however, as Theodore slides his palm gently across the blankets to press lightly over William’s cock.

William gasps, clutching at the blankets, and his hips twitch without his approval, pressing up as Theodore presses down. Theodore watches his face heavily, gaze feeling like a physical touch, and when he squeezes gently, William can’t help but moan softly, eyelashes fluttering.

“Is this alright?” Theodore asks softly, and William nods as he gasps at another squeeze, hips shifting restlessly.

“Yes, Ted, yes, it’s perfect,” William pants, and Theodore pets over his cheek as he squeezes his cock through the blankets again.

“You’re perfect,” Theodore responds softly, and William pushes his hips up, panting, needing more. He slides his hand up Theodore’s thigh, squeezing the thick muscle through his thin linen undergarments, but Theodore takes his hand off his face to catch his sneaking fingers before they reach any higher.

“My dear,” Theodore continues, a playful smirk on his face, even as his cheeks grow red under the attention. “You’re still weak with illness; I cannot be the reason you strain yourself further.”

“Ted, do not tease me,” William says tightly, but he moans again as Theodore begins to rub at his length through the linens. “I wish to touch you as well,  _ please. _ ”

Theodore’s breath catches, and he squeezes William’s hand tight against his thigh for a moment, color high in his cheeks. William feels the strength of Ted’s thigh under his palm as he squirms under his friend’s attentions, so hot and firm in his grip, and longs, suddenly, to see him naked, spread out underneath him, those thighs parted so that he can settle between them and see his love fully, nothing between them.

“Bill, you are  _ stunning _ ,” Theodore says, and William realizes that his amorous thoughts must have shown clearly on his face, mouth open and wet as he pants. “But I will not let you strain yourself so.”

“Then you may not have me yet,” William says mischievously, and raises an eyebrow as he twists onto his side, his cock protesting the loss of friction. “Sit, in the chair, and show me… and I will do the same.”

Theodore swallows heavily, hands hovering awkwardly in place after being dislodged, but after a beat he goes to sit back in the armchair. William watches as he unties his banyan and exposes his undergarments, soft and thin with years of use, and William’s mouth waters at the sight of Theodore’s hard cock pressing against the fabric as it yearns to be free of it’s restraints, the linen thin enough that William can see how red it is at the head.

William wiggles his arms back under the blankets, pulling them up around him as he shivers at the chill of the room, and reaches down to touch himself, opening the ties at the crotch of his undergarments to pull his cock out. He sighs, pressing his cheek to the pillow as he finally is able to stroke over himself, length hot and hard in his palm, and watches as Theodore swallows again and finally slides a hand across his thigh to palm himself through the bunched fabric of his linens.

“Take yourself out, I want to see you,” William gasps, arm starting to move as he strokes himself, and Theodore’s eyes dart between his pink face and the blankets hiding his movements, the way they billow and shift with the pass of his arm like an erotic secret.

“I want to see you, too, please,” Theodore begs, but he undoes the ties and his cock is suddenly free, standing hard from dark curls, head so red at the tip. He fists over himself with a soft moan, watching William’s face as he pulls his foreskin back, and he gasps as he pets his thumb over the head at the same time as William licks over his bottom lip.

“I cannot move the blanket, you must come over here and do it yourself,” William says, wanting to push his friend just a little further, and Theodore moans. He doesn’t let go of his cock as he sits forward in his chair and slides it closer so that his knees are pressed to the hardwood bedframe, and after a moment’s hesitation, scoops the blankets in his free hand, pushing them up just enough to him to see William’s hand as it strips his own cock.

“ _ Bill _ ,” Theodore says tightly, and his hand speeds up, eyes stuck to the secret he has revealed, watching the way the tendons in William's hand flex as he jerks himself, twisting over the head every couple of strokes. “Your hands, my love, your… you’re so…”

“ _ Ted, _ ” William moans, and spreads his thighs slightly so his hips can push into the circle of his fingers. He feels sweat prickle in his underarms and between his legs, but the cool air Theodore is letting in by lifting his blankets makes him shiver, hips twitching forward hard. “You do not know how long I wished to see you like this.”

“And I, you,” Theodore moans, pushing the blanket up a little higher so that it rests on William’s hip, and he leans back in his chair, hand finally free to play at the base of his cock and cup his balls. “I would dream of getting you in my bed,  _ ah _ , all the things I wish to do to you, Bill, you could not imagine.”

“Oh,  _ unh, Ted, _ ” William moans softly, and on the next twist of his palm, spills over his fingers and into his palm, hips jerking as he presses his cheek to his pillow and gasps.

“ _ Bill, ah! _ ” Ted cries, leaning his head back as brow draws up. His face twists in pleasure as he comes, moaning high in his throat like he can’t help it, and William just lays watching, memorizing every twitch of his hips and gasping, breathy moan. It is incredible to behold after so long of imagining it, and William  _ wants _ , so suddenly it is like a hook in is abdomen- wants to lick the cum off of Ted’s fingers, suck his cock down, finger him and make love to him until he’s blissful and mindless with pleasure. He moans breathily, cock twitching as it softens, and hopes he can soon tell Theodore his thoughts, and then act upon them.

"Was that alright?" William asks softly, and Theodore nods, grinning blissfully as he cracks open his eyes. He looks wanton and breathtakingly handsome, all undone in his underclothes and robe, softening cock hanging out of his drawers, and William grins back, giddy.

"We must do that again, my dear," Theodore says softly, and reaches out his unsoiled hand to take William's. "I have gone without you so long, I would love to indulge, if you wish it."

William nods, and once Theodore tucks himself away and helps to right the blankets, he leans in for a kiss.

\---

It is something to behold, once William becomes well enough to get out of bed, how much everything has changed now that he and Theodore have confessed. Every meal is a practice in not laughing, each of them trying hard to make the other crack as they take their food, and William thinks of how lovely their home might be one day, full of love and laughter. They sit in the library most evenings, and Theodore finally gets to share some of his favorite poetry, though the more romantic ones are saved until they're alone, whispered in William's ear as they sit curled by the fire.

They do not often get a chance to be alone, as the servants will talk now that William is well enough that Theodore has no need to sit by his bedside, but they finally find a moment later in the week one night when Chief Logan retires early due to a headache. They both feign sleepiness and retire to their own bedrooms with a lingering squeeze of their hands, and William waits in the chair by his fire, not wanting to presume by undressing fully. He removes his waistcoat and his shoes, however, and curls up to wait, propping his diary on his knee to write. It is a dangerous game, balancing his ink well on the arm of the chair as he scribbles, but he finds he cannot wait, not knowing what the night will hold for him.

It's such a pleasure to write of Theodore's love, the way his lingering glances and touches set fire to William's heart. Since he has been well, it's truly all he's been able to write about, small lines about his business and letters home peppered in around pages waxing poetically about the line of Theodore's throat, or the way his wide palms and long fingers tempt him so, or the sweetness of his smile. He isn't a poet by any means of the word, but still finds himself inspired, and takes great happiness in reflecting on the small daily joys of loving Theodore.

The knock comes less than a half hour later, so soft that William would have missed it had he not been listening for it, and he uncurls himself quickly to pad over to the door in his stockings. Theodore slips in once the door is open, the silk of his banyan rustling softly, and gathers William up in a passionate kiss, humming happily against his lips. They kiss for a moment, William pushing the door shut softly before he gets too distracted by the wet noises of their mouths, and wraps his arms tightly around Theodore's torso.

"Oh, my love, you cannot imagine how I have been longing to do that," Theodore says breathlessly, petting over William's hair, and William smiles giddily.

"I can, as I wanted to do it as well," he responds, and urges Theodore back down so they can continue, running his palms over the strong lines of his friend's back.

They kiss and kiss until William is breathless and aroused, cock half hard in his trousers and linens, and Theodore kisses across his cheek to the point of his jaw, sucking softly. William moans quietly, grasping at the silk so that it rustles, and Theodore clutches him even closer, running his wide palms from William's shoulders all the way to his waist in a hot swipe.

"You are irresistible," Theodore says, pressing another kiss right above where William's collar sits, still fixed in place by his neckerchief. 

"Ted, come to bed with me," William whispers suddenly, and Theodore pulls back, looking at him with wide eyes. "We do not have to do anything, I just wish to touch you and kiss you without having to strain my neck upwards so."

Theodore laughs, almost too loud for how they wish to be discreet, but William loves the sound too much to care. He wants Theodore naked under him, laughing and smiling with nothing between them but their love, and he surges up to kiss Theodore again, wrapping his arms around his shoulders to pull him down. Theodore moans softly into his mouth, curling around him, and William feels a hot rush of arousal surge through him at how much larger Theodore has become compared to him.

"Yes, my dear, anything," Theodore says breathlessly as they pull apart. "But I wish to do things with you, if you want it. I will not waste a moment we have alone."

William nods, and they walk tangled and stumbling back to his bed until they crawl on together, William backwards until he rests against the pillows, and Theodore walking on his knees until he is on top of him, face red and eyes dark, as if he wishes to eat William up. William's cock twitches in his trousers, breathing heavily, and he slides his hands under the edges of Theodore's banyan where it gaping open, touching the soft linen of his shirt, grabbing ahold of his suspenders to pull him down on top of him.

Theodore comes readily, pressing down over him and kissing him again, and they roll and squirm against each other as they kiss, William reveling in the way Theodore's body feels against his, strong and warm and alive, so much better than anything he had ever dreamed. Theodore's collar is easily unbuttoned at the whim of William's fingers, being as he had taken his cravat off when he had changed, and the stretch of tan skin that is revealed temps William so much that he presses his open mouth against it, licking the line of Theodore's throat.

Theodore gasps, clutching at William's neck and shoulder where his hands have come to rest, and tilts his head back so that William can suck at the secret place at the base, where his skin is so thin and soft. The chain of the locket peeks out, and with the next button undone, falls forward to hit gently against William's hands, reminding him of his friend's commitment and love. 

"How I have dreamt of you in this way," William says softly, between kisses pressed to Theodore's neck. 

"And I you," Theodore gasps. William looks up at his face, warm in the firelight, mouth open and wet as he pants, and cannot resist pushing Theodore onto his back to ravish him further.

" _ Bill, _ " Theodore moans as William presses a thigh between his legs, pressing until the line of his hard cock is apparent and obvious as he grinds his hips up. Theodore is wanton in his breathlessness, clutching at William's shoulders as he rubs his cock against him over and over. William can't help but lean back down to kiss Theodore hard, swiping his tongue against his lip before sucking on it, and the noise Theodore makes is so beautiful and erotic that William can't help the way he grinds his manhood against Theodore's hip.

"You are stunning," William gasps out, rubbing against Theodore. "Absolutely triumphant, my love-  _ ahh,  _ your body feels so,  _ oh, Ted. _ "

"Let me touch you, Bill," Theodore gasps out, rubbing his hands over William's chest and around to his back. "Please, I want to feel you against me."

William nods, and their hands knock together as they unbutton their trousers. William pulls at the knot of his neckerchief with a laugh, thinking about how silly it is that he was about to pull out his cock without even having his throat bare, and Theodore laughs with him, as if he has read his mind. They lean back in to kiss one another as they giggle, muffling their laughter against each other's lips, and William feels a joyous swelling of affection fill him at the humming feeling of Theodore's giggles, the touch of his hands on William's shirt buttons.

William sits up slightly to finally wiggle out of his shirt sleeves as Theodore shrugs off his banyan, and then their hands drop to their trousers, unbuttoning until the fronts are able to be pushed down and both of their lengths are straining at only their linens. Theodore's hands are shaking, just fine little tremors, so William tugs at his fingers gently from where they're pulling at his ties to lift them to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to the pad of his forefinger.

"Are you alright, my dear?" William asks softly, going back down onto his forearms so he can press a kiss to Theodore's cheek.

"Yes, I'm just…" Theodore pauses, petting his free hand up William's arm as he looks up into his face, eyes darting back and forth. "To have you, now, finally… I feel a little overwhelmed, if I may admit."

"We do not have to do anything," William says softly. "I would be happy just… being on top of you, or we can kiss, or we can just lay beside one another and wait. To be with you in any capacity is enough, for me."

"Oh, Bill," Theodore says, voice choked with emotion. "I love you so."

"And I, you," William responds softly, stroking over the soft skin of Theodore's cheek. "I only wish for you to be happy."

"Being with you makes me happy," Theodore rasps, and pulls William down. They kiss softly for a moment, just wrapping their arms around one another as their mouths meet and part and meet again, but when William touches his tongue to Theodore's, he makes the sweetest noise against his lips, and William groans and slides his hand down Theodore's flank. The way his skin feels through his linen undergarments, soft and supple to the touch… Bill can't help but squeeze the soft place at his hip.

Theodore gasps against his mouth and tugs William closer, sliding his hands down his back to squeeze tentatively at his butt, and William's hips jerk against Theodore's, pressing their cocks together as they begin to harden again from where they had flagged. They push their hips together again and again, awkwardly trying to pick up a rhythm, and William presses his mouth to Theodore's collar.

"I want us to, I want," Theodore gasps out, squeezing William's ass again so his hips jerk. "I want to touch you, I want us to… together, please."

William thinks he understands, and truly wants anything Theodore is willing to give him, so he nods and presses his hips back down once more before shifting his weight onto one elbow and lifting his hips to untie the ties keeping the fabric in place. Theodore does the same, no more shaking hands, and William takes himself in hand to stroke as he watches Theodore’s cock spring free. He can’t help it, he pushes the head of his cock gently to run up the length of Theodore, and they both moan at the feeling of soft skin against skin.

Theodore wraps a large hand tentatively around both of them, fingers bumping William’s, and jerks them both slowly. The feeling is heavenly, the velvety hardness of Theodore’s skin, the heat of his fingers squeezing them together, the look on Theodore’s face as his mouth hangs open, eyes hooded as he watches the way they look pressed together- William moans softly, hips jerking, and Theodore’s gaze finally moves to his, panting.

“You are  _ lovely _ ,” William whispers, petting his hand over the line of Theodore’s hip, and kisses him deeply, pressing their lips together hard.

They kiss again and again while Theodore strokes over them, their hips twitching and pushing, until finally they can kiss no longer, panting against each other’s lips as they get close. William feels the pull in his tummy, heat spreading across his limbs at every gasp and whimper from Theodore below him, and moans softly as he wraps his hand around their cocks as well. He presses his lips to Theodore’s cheek, and his jaw, and his neck, and then just lingers there and pants as his orgasm rushes through him, shaking as he shoots all over their fingers with a choked moan. 

Theodore gasps, squeezing and stroking him until he pulls back with a whimper, too sensitive, and after a breath William takes over jerking him, pulling his foreskin back to rub over the weeping head of his cock. Theodore moans, too loudly in the quiet of the house, and William shushes him and whispers, “Ted, you must be quiet, please, my love.”

Theodore nods as he gasps, head tilting back as he pushes his cock in and out of the tight circle of William’s fingers, throat a beautiful line as he tries to choke down the noises coming unbidden to his lips. He tenses, thighs shaking and hands grasping at William, and William presses his mouth hard to Theodore’s mouth, muffling his harsh moan as he comes, cock twitching and pulsing in his hand.

Theodore is so lovely when William pulls back, face flushed and eyelashes fluttering as he pants, and he can’t help but press another kiss to the corner of his mouth, and then to his cheek, nuzzling his nose against Theodore’s skin.  _ What a lovely creature _ , William thinks, stroking his knuckle up from the base of his friend’s softening cock to the head, just to feel him twitch and gasp.  _ How did I ever get so lucky? _

“ _ Bill, _ ” Theodore whispers, tilting his head to the side so their lips can meet, and they lay together kissing until the chill of the room becomes too much in just their underthings. Theodore procures a handkerchief from the pocket of his banyan, bunched and wrinkled where it lays below them, and they giggle together as they wipe themselves up as best they can before tucking themselves away and righting their linens.

Theodore wiggles his banyan out from under himself and throws it over the two of them, pulling William into his arms, and they lay there holding each other for a while, gently petting their hands over one another’s bodies. Theodore takes a breath, and when William pulls his face from where he was pressing soft kisses to his neck, he says softly, “I do not want to go back to my own room and sleep alone. I wish to have this with you, always.”

William’s breath catches, wondering if Theodore means what he thinks he is suggesting, and pulls back to look Theodore in the eye as he asks, “Ted, do you… you mean…”

“Yes, my dearest,  _ yes _ , I wish to never be parted from you for all my life,” Theodore says plaintively, voice thick with emotion. “I was so afraid, when you were ill, that I was to lose you all over again.”

“You won’t,” William says, clutching Theodore as close as he can, and suddenly, the words are spilling out of him, all of his heart’s yearning desires that he never dared to speak. “I want to be with you, I want… I want our home filled with love and laughter. I want to have you in the morning and in the evening, I want you to read poetry to me and I want to play my piano for you. I want you to hear me grumble about my accounts and for to drag me on breaks to go on walks in the countryside. I want anything you wish to give me, Ted,  _ anything. _ "

Theodore clutches at him, pressing his face to William's neck, and says so softly, "I want that too, Bill."

They hold each other tightly for another moment, only the sound of their breathing and the popping crackle of the fire penetrating the silence of the house, and the words come up William's throat, choking him until they spill out suddenly, pulling back to look into his friend's eyes.

"Come back home with me, Ted. Come up north," William gasps, and Theodore's eyes widen.

"You mean-?"

"Yes, Ted,  _ yes, _ ask my father for my hand, please do me the honor of being my husband," William exclaims, emotional, and Theodore clutches at him.

"Bill,  _ Bill _ ," Theodore cries softly, clutching at him. "Oh, Bill, I cannot think of anything I want more- please be my husband."

William nods fervently and presses his mouth to Theodore's passionately, kissing him over and over until their joyous laughter and tears cannot be restrained, and they giggle happily against each other's lips as they hold one another. 

"My dear, I cannot wait to spend my life with you," William says softly, petting over Theodore's cheek, catching a stray tear with his thumb.

Theodore just nods, overcome, and presses his mouth against William's again in the sweetest of kisses. 


End file.
